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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26707096">Chaos Theory</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilian_dreams/pseuds/desiderium'>desiderium (emilian_dreams)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>cosmogony (how universes are formed) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Also he can punch really hard, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Explosions, Found Family, Gen, He's selectively smart but mostly just dumb, Hijinks &amp; Shenanigans, OC is a chaos gremlin, Platonic Relationships, Potential Romance, Some Descriptions of Violence, Strong OC, Tags to be updated as we go, chaotic good oc, just a lil bit of canon divergence that snowballs, no braincells squad aka first years squad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:28:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>31,285</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26707096</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilian_dreams/pseuds/desiderium</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Headmaster Crowley had graciously allowed the non-magical stowaway to remain at Night Ravens College out of the kindness of his own heart, he’d hoped for a beast tamer, or a miracle worker; someone levelheaded, smart, and understanding.</p><p>He’s slowly starting to realize that what he has, in fact, unleashed upon his school is nothing less than a walking calamity in the guise of a person. </p><p>Well, not that Piers (said natural disaster) really cared about any of that. Without any memories to guide him, all he can do is forge his own path as best he could. And if that included more property destruction than it probably should’ve…all’s well that ends well. Right?</p><p>Now, if only he could let someone else handle all those pesky Overblot situations and whatever other dark secrets are lurking at the edge of his world, he would finally have an ideal high school life. It's just too bad his luck has never been good enough for that. </p><p>(OR: In which a misplaced stray butterfly flaps its wings and consequently envelops all of Twisted Wonderland in a storm.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Grim &amp; Deuce Spade &amp; Ace Trappola &amp; Original Character(s), Original Male Character(s) &amp; Everyone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>cosmogony (how universes are formed) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943575</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue: And Then There Were None</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“…So, I hate to break it to you, but this looks pretty bad,” pants the ginger. </p><p>His clothes are ripped and bloodied, and his cheek is streaked with dirt. The usual bright red heart around his eyes is smudged, red paint mixing with the blood on his face. </p><p>He leans against the broken stone wall, fighting to catch his breath. Around them, the storm rages, glass, stone, and iron shattering against their shelter.</p><p>His companion, a navy-haired young man, slumps against the concrete, eyes fluttering with exhaustion. He’s clutching at his side, where crimson seeps through his dark-coloured jacket.</p><p>“We still have a chance,” the navy-haired man says. Despite his words, his gaze as he looks at the ginger is fearful. “Not all the seniors are gone yet. The radio picked up their conversation a few hours ago. If we call for help—”</p><p>“Oh, brilliant idea,” the ginger interrupts. He grimaces, a sharp pain bursting in his sternum where he’d gotten struck earlier. “We’ll radio for help, because of course the seniors can get to us through the literal storm rampaging around us.” </p><p>He gestures around them, at the shadows slithering across the ground, at the winds whipping furiously above them. The air itself is being torn apart by the rampaging shadows that eagerly devour all in it’s path, turning everything to ash.</p><p>The navy-haired man’s expression crumples at his vitriol, but then scowls. “What’s your brilliant idea, then? Wait to die without trying anything?”</p><p>The ginger turns his gaze to the ground. “I’m just being realistic, Deuce.” He glances back at the navy-haired man, and then looks away. “We were stupid, and now we’re paying for it. Face it, we’re screwed.”</p><p>The solemnity of his statement drains away the last of his anger, replaced by the cold, stark knowledge that they were going to die. </p><p>Deuce turns away, but the lack of argument is as telling as any. </p><p>Ace sighs, leaning against their temporary shelter. It wouldn’t hold up for long, but at least for now, it was almost peaceful, if they ignored the howling.</p><p>“…Why do you think this happened?” Deuce mumbles, so softly Ace almost misses it. “Why all of this… After <em> he </em>disappeared, everything…” </p><p>Ace glances back at Deuce tiredly. “I don’t know. Maybe God just really likes seeing us suffer.”</p><p>“That’s <em> not </em> funny,” Deuce bites back, glaring at him. “How could you say that when <em> that </em>is literally right there?”</p><p>He gestures behind them, but Ace doesn’t bother to look. He already knows what he’s going to see. </p><p>Looming at the edge of the horizon, churning the clouds into a frenzy, and stirring the ground with every step it took, a dark, shadowy figure stands, taller than any human. Black mist cloaks its features, which blur and change the more he looks at it. His head hurts just from staring at it, at how <em> wrong </em>it is.</p><p>“Well,” Ace shrugs, smiling without humour. “It’s the end of the world, right? Not like there’s much more to be afraid of.”</p><hr/><p>
  <strong>END</strong>
</p><hr/><p>It’s dark, dusty, and cold. All he can smell is the overpowering scent of mold and something sickly sweet that turns his stomach. He can barely breathe, with how clogged up his lungs are, dry and dusty as they are. He can’t move. He can’t move. He can’t move.</p><p>It should be wrong. It <em> feels </em>wrong. He should be panicking, and he is, but even that feels weird. He feels like he’s floating, his panic a single drop in a wide lake, ripples of terror forming and dissipating as fast as they appeared. </p><p>He feels like he’s floating. He’s not sure, actually, if that’s not the case. His lower body is numb.</p><p>Why is he awake? </p><p>Something must have woken him up. Something had disturbed his slumber. </p><p>His senses, unfamiliar from lack of use, strain. He can feel vibrations in the air, a faint thrumming that is so different from its previous stillness. Soft, <em> clip-clop </em>sounds, rhythmic in it’s unevenness. It’s the first sound he has heard for a while other than silence, and though the noise is quiet it feels as striking as a gunshot.</p><p>…Alive. Something alive is approaching him. He feels like a string that has just been tuned, vibrating freely. Not just alive, <em> magical </em>.</p><p>Something in his vision shifts. The inky darkness before his eyes coils, and then moves. He stares, not quite believing, as a single ray of light pierces through the gaps. His eyes water from how blinding it is, but he keeps staring, drinking in the light with a greediness that came from having been deprived of it for far too long.</p><p>A shadow falls across him, blocking the light. He tries to protest, but his throat is as rough as sandpaper. Not a single sound escapes, though dust swirls in the air at his attempt. </p><p>Noise. He can’t hear properly, but the vibrations make his skull tingle. A voice, low and deep. </p><p>The darkness shifts again, and light pours in, basking his still form with it’s golden radiance. His eyes burn at the sudden intrusion, so much more overpowering now that the light is <em> everywhere </em>. He tries to shut them, but his eyelids are stiff. </p><p>Unfamiliar arms reach out, encircling him, tugging him out of whatever pit he’d been in previously. He dangles limply in their hold, unable to move a single muscle.</p><p>It’s too bright. His eyes water. The air is unfamiliar. It tastes of things other than dust and mold. So many different textures layer themselves over his mind.</p><p>Everything is new.</p><p>He still can’t see properly, just splotches of light and dark, but the shadow that falls across his vision is unmistakable.</p><p>He hears an impatient snorting, and hooves pounding across the ground. </p><p>…Yes. This is familiar. Somehow, his mind recognizes this.</p><p>The arms settle him down, on something impossibly soft. Cringes creak. </p><p>And he’s swallowed once more by the void.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 1: How to Commit Arson (un)Safely</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Total Damages: 1 ceremonial robe, 1 coffin lid, 1 lamp, and a room full of coffins (now on fire)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There’s a low, buzzing noise in the back of his head that’s disturbing the silence, and it’s really annoying. It’s impossible to drift back to sleep with that sound constantly playing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He frowns, shifting in an attempt to block out the sound. His hands reach up to cover his ears.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ow</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Ugh. That had </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Experimentally, he taps his elbow against it again, more gently this time. It has a rather firm texture, cold and hard like stone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>…Hold on, that’s not right. His thoughts, slow and foggy from his slumber, stir drowsily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Grr!” The obstinate buzz solidifies into a voice, equally as high-pitched and grating on his senses. “This lid is too heavy!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lid? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes blink open, and he shoots upright—only to hit his head on something hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ouch. Yup, there’s the lid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a growing sense of alarm, he presses his hands against the lid again, panic rising in his throat. He kicks his leg out, and hits another hard edge. Now that he’s aware of it, he can barely move without banging his elbow against something.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?” the same voice mutters, sounding confused. There’s another shuffling sound, and then the voice grows louder. “I can hear something coming from this coffin, but that should be impossible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His throat closes up, a deep seated terror rising to the forefront of his mind. He can’t breathe. It’s too small. It feels like the walls are closing in on him. He has to—has to get out, right now. It doesn’t matter where he is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His breathing speeds up, and frantically he presses his hand against the lid. It feels as solid as ever, but he needs to get out right now. He slams his fist against the lid, a loud, resounding thud ringing out, but the lid is firmly closed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha—i-is someone awake?!” the voice splutters, but he can barely focus on them. The ringing in his ears grows ever louder. His head spirals, he’s dizzy and he still can’t see a thing</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Out. No matter what, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>to get out of here. He can’t—he can’t breathe. He can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>move</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a cry, he clenches his fist and tenses, before slamming it into his wooden confines. A jolt of pain runs up his arm, but there’s a loud, shattering sound that signals his victory. His fist punches cleanly </span>
  <em>
    <span>through </span>
  </em>
  <span>the lid, breaking through the frame and scattering wood chips onto his face. The impact wrenches off the lid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears a startled screech and another loud bang as the lid hits the ground, but his mind is focused on the now available, unfiltered </span>
  <em>
    <span>air</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He sits up, only barely noticing that he was, in fact, in a coffin, before taking a stumbling step out of the coffin and immediately plummeting onto the ground below.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What the—? With a groan, he peels his face off the floor, massaging it gingerly. He hadn’t been expecting to be suspended clear off the floor. Floating coffins? That doesn’t seem quite right. Coffins aren’t supposed to float. At least, he thinks so.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head, taking another look at the room he’s in. Actually, now that he thinks about it, none of this feels right. The floor is cold slate-grey stone, smooth and evenly paved. Multiple floating coffins line the room,  illuminated by green lantern light, casting eerie shadows against the stone walls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>NYAAAARGH!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The sudden screech draws his attention, and he belatedly remembers the voice he’d heard before he broke out of his coffin. With a puff of blue fire, the lid explodes, and a small, black shape darts out from beneath it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Huh. What </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>that? It’s small, black, and… furry. An animal? Seems like it, except for the blue fire in its ears. Oh, yes. And it’s flying. That’s just great.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“YOU!” the furry… thing yells, and he blinks to attention at having been addressed by it so directly. “How dare you treat the Great Grim like that! You could’ve killed me, yanno!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pauses, a little taken aback by the vitriol in the creature’s voice, and points at himself. “Sorry, are you talking about me?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course! Do you see anyone else around, you stupid human? A-and why are you awake?!” The creature bounces up and down indignantly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He frowns, a little irritated. “Oi, I woke up in a coffin. Of course I panicked. Speaking of which…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Reaching out, he deftly plucks the black creature out of the air, wrapping his fist around the creature’s body. His voice dropping and his expression darkening, he asks calmly, “You don’t happen to know why I woke up in a coffin? Not to mention how I got here in the first place? Hm, you adorable little raccoon?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“GYAH!” The furry raccoon squirms around in his grip, but he keeps a tight hold on him, enough that he can’t get loose. “Just who are you calling a raccoon, you insolent human! Do you know who I am? I’m the Great GRIm—</span>
  <em>
    <span>eek!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tightens his grip just slightly, his smile widening. “My apologies, O Great One! But I’m really not in a good mood from waking up in a coffin. Wanna find out exactly how great my mood is?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Geh!” Grim shrinks back from the venom in his voice, eyes darting from side to side. “Let go of me, human!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or what?” he asks blandly, dropping his smile. He narrows his eyes, more than a little fed up with the creature at this point. Having been rudely startled awake trapped in a coffin had set his nerves alight, and the adrenaline rush was draining, replacing fear with anger. If this raccoon really was responsible for that entrance, then… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His intentions must have been evident in his expression, because Grim pales. “Fine! But don’t say I didn’t warn ya, you stupid human!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh? What are you talking ab—Whoa!” With a yelp, he lets go as fast as he can as the creature blows out a plume of blue flame from its mouth. What the hell, can raccoons do that? This dumb furry thing could already fly, speak, and now it can blow fire too? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He isn’t quite fast enough, though, and the fire singes his knuckles. With a wince, he checks out the damage; it’s nothing too bad, the skin only pinkening slightly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Having assessed that the damage is minimal, he then shoots a glare at the furry raccoon dancing just out of reach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can shoot fire?” he says incredulously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nyahahaha! I told you not to underestimate me! I’m the genius Grim after all! Serves you right!” Grim sticks his tongue out in response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why, you—Get down here, you mangy flea-sack!” He jumps up, attempting to swipe at the stupid creature, but Grim is unfortunately agile, zipping out of the way before his hits can reach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As if your weak attacks could hit the Great Grim! Nyaha, who’s the loser now?” Grim cackles, before a sudden thought seems to enter its mind. “AH! Right! Gimme your clothes right now!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the sudden request, he stops in trying to attack the raccoon. “Hah? Why would I do that, you cheating raccoon?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Grr! I’m not a raccoon!” Grim puffs up indignantly, and a plume of blue fire shoots out in a straight line, making him stumble backwards cautiously to avoid his hair getting singed. “And forget that! Do what I say, or I’ll roast ya!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No thanks!” Looking around for something to wield as a weapon, his gaze lands on the still-lit lantern just within arm’s reach. He grabs hold of it, but it’s fixed to the wall by a cold metal rod. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you listening to me, dumb human?!” This time, his only warning before the raccoon aims is the faint buzzing in the back of his mind, all his instincts warning him of the missile about to fire at him. He ducks and rolls, just barely avoiding the sheet of blue fire that soars over his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oi! Watch where you’re aiming that, you could’ve burned my outfit!” he yells, patting himself down. His hair is smoldering slightly, but he quickly snuffs that out. That was too close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me what to do!” Grim retorts. He’s watching more carefully this time, so he’s able to jump out of the way just before the fireball hits him. It impacts the wall behind him and scorches the stone black. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim huffs. “Stop moving around so much, human!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t bother responding, too busy avoiding the various jets of fire that are targeting him. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> not fair how the raccoon seems to be at utter ease, high above and out of reach and spewing flame after flame. If he can’t get into range, he can’t stop the stupid fireball-throwing-machine from continuing its rampage. Is there really nothing he can throw at it or something?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His gaze wanders to the walls again, and he blinks as an idea pops into his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, you stupid furball, where are you aiming?” he taunts, then quickly ducks behind one of the floating coffins before the responding sheet of flame can hit him. He hears it fizzle into nothingness against the coffin exterior. Nice. Hopefully no one inside was roasted or anything, or it would be not so nice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Grrr! How dare you call the Great Grim that!” the furball screeches furiously. “That’s it, I don’t care about your uniform anymore! I’ll just take it from someone else! I’m gonna roast ya to ashes!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, looks like the raccoon was properly angry now. Not that it really made a difference at this point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A faint thrum in the back of his mind warns him of the incoming fire, and he jumps left as a new sheet of blue rolls over where his feet had been just seconds ago. How much fire did the creature have anyway? Surely there must be some limit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, a small triumphant grin lights up his face as the creature’s fire strikes home: it blasts into one of the hanging lamps that decorated the room, cold metal glowing red-hot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grabs the lamp just behind him. That turns out to be somewhat of a mistake, as the iron is still steaming red-hot, and it quickly burns his hand; a hiss of pain escapes his throat but he doesn’t let go. Grunting slightly at the effort it takes, he tears it off the wall where the iron is still soft, wrenching the lamp from it’s placeholder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lamp: acquired. Burn wound: also acquired. He’ll have to deal with the wound later, but for now, he quickly ducks behind another coffin, darting in between the shadows to keep out of Grim’s sight, still holding the lamp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nearly drops the lamp, but he manages to keep hold of it, switching hands and wrapping his sleeve around it. The iron is still hot enough to warm his hand, but the sleeve provides some protection; it’s better than nothing. His burned hand is flaring with agony, and he wipes it on his robe, wincing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’d ya go? Hiding? Scared of the Great Grim?” Grim calls out to the room. “Come out!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not hiding,” he mutters under his breath. “I’m just waiting for THIS!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jumping out of his spot behind a coffin, he briefly feels a spurt of glee at the stunned expression on Grim’s face. As the racoon opens his mouth in preparation to fire again, he doesn’t wait for him to shoot, instead launching the lamp right at the creature’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“GEH!” Grim stumbles, the fire sputtering to a stop as it clutches its face with its furry paws. “Ow!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Success! He grins and pumps his fist in the air. “How’d you like that? Don’t worry, I’ve got more!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“NGYAAAAAAH!” Grim puffs up like a balloon, his expression utterly furious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ah. Right, time to switch to Plan B.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Minor problem: he didn’t exactly have a plan B.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>…Maybe he should get another lamp to throw before Grim actually roasts him? He reaches backwards nervously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“TURN INTO ASHES, INSOLENT HUMAN!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The buzzing in his head ramps up to alarm bells as the creature blows out a long line of flame, turning in a wide circle. He’s forced to drop and roll out of the way, quickly darting to his feet again just in time to avoid another whip of flame from lashing at his ankles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The entire room is ablaze now from the intensity of the flames. He wasn’t quite sold on floating coffins when he earlier assessed them, but now he admits it’s probably for the best. At least this way they couldn’t catch fire (as easily, though not for lack of trying on Grim’s part). Maybe that’s why they built floating coffins? To avoid hazardous situations like this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He circles around the floating coffins. The flames are hot enough that he’s starting to sweat in his overly-dressed layers, and the smoke clouds the rooms. Time to make an escape, now that the room is going up in flames.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, this was fun,” he mumbles to himself, then chances a peek around the coffin. The monster is nowhere in sight. He grins. “Bye-bye! Playtime’s over, raccoon!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nyaaaargh! Get back here!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Grim’s screeches follow him out the door, but he pays it no mind, running like hell was on his heels—which it technically was. Besides, what was the cat expecting him to do? Listen to him and stop running, only to be turned into ashes? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No thanks. He’d rather not.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His shoes echo as they clack against the stone floor with every frantic footstep. The hallway is made of similar material, constructed entirely out of stone, iron and glass. The corridor is wide enough for ten people to walk side by side at once, and the ceiling is high and arched. Lamps dangle from the ceiling, swaying merrily on the breeze let in by the arched windows on either side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Where the hell is he, anyways? He didn’t have much time to contemplate when he was back in the floating coffins room (which was now the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fire-</span>
  </em>
  <span>coffins-room), but he doesn’t remember ever being in a place as grandiose as this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not to mention the whole corridor is empty, which is more than a little eerie. It’s dark outside, and with the only sound being his footsteps, it’s more than a little creepy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Found you! Did you really think you could escape from me, human?!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>…Scratch that. The only sound being his footsteps, and now the high-pitched snarls. How persistent was this monster, anyways?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, this is just great,” he mutters under his breath. He scans the hallway for anything to throw, but his hopes are dashed by how empty it is. The lamps are too high for him to reach (and bolted by their chains), and the paintings look very firmly stuck to the walls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He chances a look behind him and stifles a yelp, rolling left just as a jet of flame shoots overhead. He’s certain the monster hadn’t been shooting flames that far back in the coffins room. How’d his range near-double so quickly?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you stop it?” he calls back, speeding up as he gets to his feet. “Seriously, I’m starting to feel offended! Don’t you have anything else to do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pfft! If you don’t want to get roasted, stop right now!” is the response, and he frowns. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Somehow, I don’t really feel convinced,” he murmurs thoughtfully to himself, before jumping left and ducking behind a wall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fire that passes is so close to his nose that he can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>the heat wash over him, setting his nerve ends alight with tension. His eyes burning, he squints through the flames for any sign of the monster approaching. Maybe if he hid long enough it’d run out of patience and leave?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There you are!” A new voice suddenly calls out, and he jumps, stumbling backwards to face the source of the noise. For a second, his heart stops, thinking the monster had somehow learned teleportation and gotten behind him. But no, the voice is quite a bit lower in pitch than Grim’s had been. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ouch!” he stares down at his hand, astonished, where the end of a shadowy black whip-like tendril is coiled tightly around his wrist. Then he looks up at the source, following the end of the cord to… to…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>…Huh. He gazes at the crow mask, then slowly slides his glance upwards, at the offensively gaudy hat and attire. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So,” he says very calmly, tugging at his wrist experimentally to no avail. The rope(?) holds tight, cutting into his skin uncomfortably. “I’ve already had to deal with one monster today, don’t really feel like dealing with another. Just tell me your deal, crow man, I’m sure we can work it out.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How rude!” The crow man exclaims, and the cord around his wrist tightens. The crow man places his hand on his hip, looking as offended as one can with a mask covering half their face. “It’s not crow man, it’s Dire Crowley! And that’s no way to speak to someone who just ran around looking for you, since you got out of the Gate on your own! Goodness, new student or not, there are just some things you shouldn’t do!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?” The more the crow man talks, the less he understands. “Student? Uh, hold on, crow man, I don’t know what you’re—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Crowley!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the crow man corrects impatiently. “And come on, we’re already late for the Entrance Ceremony. Look at you, did you try to set your robes on fire? These things don’t come cheap, you know!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At those words, he glances down, giving himself a once-over. His clothes are singed, and streaked black from the close encounters with fire. “Well, yeah, the monster was—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Actually, where was Grim? He turns back to glance at the corridor, which is suspiciously empty. Maybe it was okay to hope that Grim had finally given up?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never mind that now, we’re late enough as is!” Crowley tugs at his whip, pulling him along. “How’d you even manage to get out of the Gate by yourself when it was still locked… Ugh, how do I explain this one…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait!” Hurrying to catch up, he stumbles over his own feet, the whip pulling him along and forcing him to speed up. “Crawler—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Crowley.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Crowbar,” he amends. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You’re doing this on purpose.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean by gate?” he redirects the conversation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley sighs. “You woke up in a room with doors, did you not? All students who wish to attend this academy must pass through one of those doors to arrive here. Normally it can only be unlocked by a special key, but…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stops, screeching to a halt. So the room he’d woken up in… “Hold on, you’re saying the room with the coffins was filled with </span>
  <em>
    <span>other people?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that’s all… No, no, uh, I-I mean, this is a school?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only the most prestigious of magical academies!” Crowley proclaims, briefly letting go of his whip to gesture grandiosely. “This is 'Night Raven College'! Magicians blessed with a unique aptitude for magic gather from all over the world!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley squints at him through the crow mask, looking him up and down slowly. “But you should already know that, since you’re here. Only those magicians seen as worthy by the Dark Mirror can attend this school. Chosen ones use the Gate and are summoned here from around the world. An Ebony carriage carrying a Gate should have gone to meet you as well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head, feeling more and more lost. The more he hears of this world, the less real it seems. “I just woke up in a coffin. I don’t know anything about this school. I’m pretty sure I’m not a stude—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley glances down at his wristwatch, and his eyes widen, suddenly picking up the pace again. “... Oh my! Now isn't the time to be long winded. The entrance ceremony will soon come to a close. Let's get a move on!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oi, crow dude, are you listening to me?! I’m telling you, I’m not—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His words fall on deaf ears, and his struggling is futile. The crow man continues to march forward, ignoring all his protests, forcing him along by the wrist.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter 1 complete! OC has successfully been introduced to the Twisted World.<br/>The fight scene with Grim got longer than I thought it would. I kept looking for places to cut and thinking I needed to write just one bit more. <br/>I know it’s a little confusing when I haven’t used a name for my OC yet, so I tried to address the other person by name whenever they’re talking/acting. There’s a reason for it, promise!<br/>If you were wondering why Grim disappeared, it’s because he saw OC being dragged off by Crowley and deciding not to attack for now.<br/>Hopefully it wasn’t too confusing. If there are any questions, I’d be glad to clarify them in the comments!! Thank you for reading this far :)<br/>Next Chapter: How to ruin an Entrance Ceremony in 3 Easy Steps</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 2: How to Ruin an Entrance Ceremony in 3 Easy Steps for Dummies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Total Damages: 2 shoes, Crowley’s hat, and an entire audience chamber of scorch marks.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The stupid crow masked principal apparently lacked ears, or had gone selectively deaf, because he didn’t stop walking until they’d reached a set of ornate wooden doors, which he threw open with a bang.</p><p>“Not at all!” Crowley proclaims loudly to the audience chamber within. Following the crow man, still tied firmly at the wrist, he peeks in, grimacing at the dim lighting that made it impossible to distinguish all the similarly dressed people inside.</p><p>Upon the headmaster’s entrance, the noise immediately dies down to whispers. The room is sectioned into seven, with a large platform holding an incredibly elaborate mirror at center stage.</p><p>“Ah, he’s here,” someone mutters. Straining to look at who’d said that, he catches a brief glimpse of bright red under a purple hood before Crowley tugs him forward to stand in front of the mirror.</p><p>“I cannot believe you all,” the headmaster grumbles dramatically. “We were missing a student, so I went to find them. Spreading false rumours about your poor, kindly headmaster already?”</p><p>Another hooded figure snorts, clearly disbelieving. </p><p>“Hmph. Well, fine, in order not to delay the ceremony any further, we shall proceed. Stand in front of the Dark Mirror, and you will be assigned a dormitory.” Crowley pushes him forwards, letting go with the whip.</p><p>He stumbles forwards ungracefully, barely avoiding tripping over himself. A few people in the audience snicker at his fall, and he smiles sheepishly as he rubs his wrist, glancing into the mirror.</p><p>His eyes widen, and he stares into the mirror some more, entranced. Yeah, there’s a floating theatre mask covered in puke-coloured green smoke, but he doesn’t care about that. After the crowman and Grim, he’s hit his limit for things that blow his mind. A talking carnival mask in a mirror? Sure, why not.</p><p>No, he’s more curious about the person staring back at him in his reflection.  </p><p>He raises his hand and watches as the person in the mirror mimics him. He puts it down again, a strange twisty feeling in his stomach as the mirror replicates him.</p><p>…Is that himself? </p><p>It hits him, for the first time, that up until this moment he hadn’t known what he looked like. The person in the mirror might as well be a stranger. </p><p>A low, bubbling panic is beginning to rise in his stomach at this realization, but he shoves it down quickly in favour of looking more carefully at himself, drinking in the details greedily, trying to assimilate the appearance with himself.</p><p>The crow person had been right. His robes, which matched everyone else’s, were a tattered, scorched mess. The hood had fallen off, revealing his long, inky hair, a shade that was neither blue or purple but somewhere in between, dark enough to almost look black except when the light hit it. Strangely enough, a single strand of hair in his bangs was white. Is that normal? He can’t really tell.</p><p>Tentatively, he reaches back and pats his hair, pulling his ponytail around his shoulders to gaze at it. His hair was surprisingly soft, except where it was lightly singed. It was long enough to fall just under his ribs even when tied in a low ponytail. Experimentally, he tugs on it, and feels a small spark of pain as it pulls on his scalp. </p><p>He lets go, leaning closer to the mirror to look at his eyes. They’re several shades lighter than his hair, a gentle violet that’s interrupted by small rushed flecks of another colour. Yellow? No, it was too dark for that. Gold?</p><p>He traces his cheek with one finger, marvelling at the pale colour and the soft texture. Three diamond-shaped spots rested under his right eye, and running his finger over them sends a jolt through his face, a bit like a static shock. He pokes it again, wincing slightly at the same result.</p><p>As he runs his hands over his sleeves, categorizing the movement carefully, he dissects the appearance in front of him. Despite knowing the person in the mirror is himself, it still feels surreal, a strange uncertainty that belies his dissonant sentiments with every hesitant movement.</p><p>…It’s like looking at a stranger. The person in the mirror might be himself—logically, he knows it’s his own reflection—but he can’t help but feel detached from his appearance in a way that’s almost clinical.</p><p>“A-<em> hem </em>.”</p><p>He blinks back to attention, his mind pulled out of his examination of himself. He’d been more engrossed with looking at himself than he’d thought, and only now is he aware of the murmuring in the hall as the Dark Mirror remains strangely silent throughout his examination.</p><p>He pulls back sheepishly, smiling. “Um, right, what am I supposed to…?” </p><p>Somehow, even through the mask, Crowley manages to exude an air of exasperation. “Yes, you look fine, now about the <em> sorting </em>…? Dark Mirror?”</p><p>The mask in the mirror hums, and he nearly jumps back. The voice that speaks from the mirror is deep, and almost resonant. <em> “State thy name.” </em></p><p>…Name? </p><p>He racks his brains, his mind turning slowly and coming up blank. </p><p>He clenches his fist, the panic he’d repressed from before surging back, thick and smothering. A lump grows in his throat, and he swallows thickly. </p><p>He can’t remember. He really doesn’t know.</p><p>That’s definitely not normal. That’s not good. He should know something as simple as this. Something as fundamental and basic as his name shouldn’t require thinking at all. </p><p>Ahaha. That’s fine. This is fine, yup. E-even if he doesn’t know his own name or appearance, he could figure this out. Maybe he’d just forgotten temporarily. Surely it was somewhere in his mind. He just needed a little more time… </p><p>“What are you doing?” Crowley nudges his shoulder, hissing under his breath. “Come on, everyone’s waiting. Just say your name!”</p><p>He panics, his mind racing. As he opens his mouth, he blurts out the first name that comes to mind. “Um, Dire Crowley!”</p><p>Silence. </p><p>Even the Dark Mirror seems to be giving him a judgemental look, though it doesn’t have eyes. </p><p>“Oh, we’ve got one of <em> those </em> jokers,” a hooded figure sighs.</p><p>“Headmaster Crowley, what is the hold up?” One of the hooded figures draws his hood down, bright red hair coming into view. “If this keeps up, we’ll be late for the Orientation party. Is the new student giving you any trouble? I’d be glad to deal with it.”</p><p>“Tch. As if this ceremony wasn’t already a drag,” another hooded figure mutters, ears flickering irritatedly. </p><p>“No, no, we’ve just run into a little bump, that’s all,” Crowley responds gaily, then nudges him again. “Are you trying to joke? Because that wasn’t funny. Now, state <em> your </em> name, not <em> mine </em>.”</p><p>He swallows again, trying to relieve the sudden dryness in his throat. He’s still drawing blank. His name is a giant question mark in his mind, and it <em> shouldn’t be that way </em>. </p><p>“I…” </p><p>“Well? Hurry it up,” the Headmaster says impatiently, tapping his foot.</p><p>He clenches his fists, an irrational anger at having been rushed when he’s in the middle of his own crisis washing over him. He knows he’s stalling—he can feel everyone’s eyes on him, their stares penetrating and their whispers a wave of judgement that he can’t escape. </p><p>“I don’t <em> know </em> my own name!” he blurts out, flailing. “I just said the first thing that came to mind!”</p><p>Crowley pauses, mouth open.</p><p>“…Come again?”</p><p>“I <em> said </em> , I don’t know my own <em> name </em> , I don’t know <em> anything! </em> How’m I supposed to give the Mirror my name for this <em> stupid </em> sorting ceremony if I <em> don’t know it?” </em> he says tightly.</p><p>The headmaster is silent long enough that he wonders if he’s asleep behind the crow mask. After what feels like hours of silent scrutiny, he finally says, “Well, that appears to be a problem. I initially thought the teleportation spell shook you up, as it tends to do, but to have full-blown amnesia…” </p><p>“W-wait!” Seizing the headmaster’s hands, he leans forwards eagerly. “Say that again! What you just said.”</p><p>“…The teleportation spell shoo—” </p><p>“No, not that, stupid crow mask,” he shakes his head dismissively, ignoring the headmaster’s irritated correction of “<em> Headmaster Crowley </em>”. “The other part!”</p><p>Looking somewhat affronted, Crowley abides by his request nonetheless. “That appears to—”</p><p>It feels like a switch has been turned on, the gears in his head slowly starting up again as those syllables alone ring in his ears. It feels so close he could almost taste it on the tip of his tongue.</p><p>“That’s it!” Jumping onto the balls of his feet in excitement, he rocks back and smiles. “My name!”</p><p>“Your name is ‘Appears’,” Crowley says slowly. </p><p>“Yep! Um, well, no.” He flaps his arms dismissively. “Not quite, I think. But close enough! S-so, uh… ‘Piers’ is fine?” </p><p>Piers tests it out against his tongue, murmuring it slowly, savouring the way it rolls off his tongue. “Piers. Piers.” </p><p>It feels right. It feels <em> his </em>. For the first time since he woke up today, it almost feels like things are okay again. A small triumph, but it’s warm enough.</p><p>“Peers,” Crowley says. He’s rubbing at the edge of his crow mask, looking faintly weary. “Glad we got that sorted, at least. You can give your name to the Dark Mirror now, then we’ll figure everything else out.”</p><p>“Not Peers,” Piers corrects, miffed. “<em> Piers. </em>”</p><p>“They sound exactly the same! And forget about that, this really isn’t the time for it!”</p><p>Piers bites his lip (he is <em> not pouting! </em>), and turns back to the mirror, this time avoiding his own reflection. “Fine then. Uh, Dark Mirror…?”</p><p>The Dark Mirror had been staying respectfully silent throughout the exchange, watching them with dark, hollowed-out eyes. At being suddenly addressed, the Mirror spoke up in a tone that could almost be mistaken for exasperation.</p><p>
  <em> “State thy name.” </em>
</p><p>Sorting ceremony: trial #2. Taking a deep breath, his voice trembling ever so slightly, he says carefully, “Piers.”</p><p><em> “The shape of thy soul is…” </em> </p><p>The smoke inside the mirror swirls in quick, rapid movements that are almost dizzying to watch. The mirror falls silent, and Piers taps his foot against the ground, waiting. </p><p>Did the Sorting usually take this long? The crowds are already restless from how long he’s been up here, whispers floating around the chamber as a constant background noise, accompanied by the rustling of silken robes being shifted around. Piers wonders distantly if he should speak up. Is it rude to ask a Magic Mirror to hurry up? </p><p>Crowley frowns. “What’s taking so long<em> now…? </em> As though we didn’t already have enough to deal with…” </p><p>The mask tilts aside, considering. Words spill from its mouth like mist into thin air. <em> “I do not know.” </em></p><p>“Yeah, me neither, dude,” Piers agrees. He wasn’t really expecting much… but still, he can’t help but feel just a little bit disappointed.</p><p>Taken aback, Crowley splutters, “Come again?” </p><p>
  <em> “I cannot sense a single spark from this one. Neither the colour, the shape, nor the texture can be grasped. This one is hollow. Nothing can be discerned but void. Therefore, they cannot be suited for any dormitory.” </em>
</p><p>The whispering in the audience chamber immediately explodes into murmurs, frenzied and curious. Piers fidgets with a stray strand of hair. He’s not exactly sure what that means, but from everyone else’s reactions, it’s apparently something big.</p><p>The Headmaster seems stunned, unless he’s just attempting his best impression of a fish, with how his mouth gapes. “Wha—Impossible! In more than a century the Ebony Carriages have never made a mistake! There’s no way they’d invite someone with no magical ability!”</p><p>The Headmaster turns to Piers, who startles backwards at the manic frenzy in their expression. Gripping him firmly by the shoulders, grimly, Crowley says, very grimly, “Young lad, are you certain you did not enter someone else’s Gate by mistake?” </p><p>Piers scrunches his face up, leaning away from the crow mask glaring into his eyes. “How would I know? I didn’t even know my name until minutes ago.”</p><p>Crowley releases him, seemingly turning a thought over in his mind. “…Yes, that’s certainly true. Moreover, once a Gate has chosen its target, it cannot be entered by anyone else… unless someone purposefully… but, no, that much can’t be possible… why—” </p><p>“PAH! Forget about that useless non-magical human!” </p><p>The door to the entrance chamber suddenly explodes outwards in a flash of blue fire amongst scattered shouts of alarm. Startled, Piers ducks behind Crowley (who yelps in surprise), holding the crow man in front as a shield. Amongst the crowd, several glowing barriers are erected, smoking slivers of wood harmlessly bouncing off.</p><p>From the dust and smoke now crowding the entrance, an <em> extremely </em> familiar voice shouts, “I’ll take their place!”</p><p>“That voice!” Piers’ head shoots up, and over the Headmaster’s shoulder he glares into the smoke concealing the speaker. “It’s—”</p><p>The smoke clears, a small, dark shape flies out, small furry paws stacked against his hips confidently. “Unlike that dumb human, I can actually use magic! I’ll prove it right now if you need me to!” </p><p>That stupid monster was back! It’d disappeared for so long Piers had hoped it’d gotten lost amongst the school, but to show up now, and with this timing?! </p><p>Seemingly pleased by the instant uproar that had unsettled the audience, Grim smirks pointedly, his blue eyes sliding across the rows of people. Then his gaze falls upon Piers, and instantly a scowl crosses his face.</p><p>“Wha—<em> YOU </em> — <em> ?!” </em></p><p>“<em> —You </em> again!” Piers finishes in tandem, raising his voice to be heard over. He points at the monster accusingly. “Didn’t you have enough of destroying my robes? Why’d you come back?!” </p><p>“Young man, please explain yourself!” Crowley shouts, standing in between him and Grim. “If this is your familiar, then they have acted <em> highly inappropriately </em>—”</p><p>“Familiar?” Piers cries, bewildered by the new term. At the same time, Grim protests, “I’m not their freaking familiar!” </p><p>Piers and Grim meet eyes again, both scowling at their synchronicity. </p><p>“That’s what they all say!” Crowley flicks his wrist, and Piers’ yelp is echoed by Grim as the whip coils around his hand once more. Grim thrashes in his new bindings, pawing at the rope aggressively. “Settle down, now! And I hope you have an idea of how you’re going to clean this up!”</p><p>“Nnngh! What’s up with this rope?” Panicking, Grim exhales another line of blue flame, a bee-line towards Piers, who quickly darts out of the way, tethered as he is by the rope around his wrist. The fire burns against the wooden floor, merrily setting the floor of the stage on fire.</p><p>“My stage!” Crowley cries, distraught. “Stop it, you’ll set the room on fire!”</p><p>The room is already well on it’s way to a full bonfire. Considering what happened to the coffin room, it’s only a matter of time before this room also sets alight.</p><p>Still, that isn’t the point right now! So what if the room went up in flames! </p><p>“Who cares about that, why am I caught too?” Piers protests, holding his wrist up where the whip restrains him. “I have nothing to do with him! He just tried to kill me for the second time today!”</p><p>“You stay quiet!” The headmaster jabs viciously in his direction. “All of this has happened after I let you into the academy! Never in a hundred years have I seen a familiar this poorly—”</p><p>“I <em> told </em>you, he’s not my—”</p><p>Before he can finish his sentence, a shiver crawls up his spine, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. Without hesitation, Piers throws himself to the ground. Just as well too—Crowley’s grip on the whip loosens, startled by the flame being shot in his direction, and Grim darts into the air, cackling as he frees himself from his confines.</p><p>“Nnnnahhh! You can’t catch the Great Grim! I’m a genius magician after all! If you won’t let me into your school, then I’ll just have to force you to!” </p><p>He punctuates his sentence by spewing another semi-circle of blue flame beneath him, directly on top of where the students are. </p><p>“Everyone get down!” orders the red-haired figure who’d spoken earlier. </p><p>The red-haired boy (it was hard to tell his age, what with the smoke clouding his vision and all, but the boy is <em> very </em>short) whips out a sparkly thin rod from within his robes. Waving his arms, the large, shiny gem sitting prettily on top of the stick glitters, and before Piers’ amazed eyes, the fire copies his swift, sweeping movements and disperses, swirling harmlessly to the side and away from the students.</p><p>But not everyone is so lucky. Amongst the terrified din, one voice almost projects itself with how loud it is. One of the other robed figures who’d been standing in front is now running all over the place. In his panic, his hood had fallen off, revealing a turban and dark skin. All his other features are indistinct, since he’s running fast enough that it’s difficult to focus on any part of him, and also because most of Piers’ attention is drawn towards the fire on his robes rather than his face.</p><p>“Wahhhh! Hot! My butt’s on fire!” the turbaned man wails, running in frantic circles.</p><p>“KALIM, STOP, DROP, AND ROLL!” Someone shouts from the audience, barely managing to be heard over the general chaos of the room.</p><p>Grim grins, spewing more jets of flame into the air and towards the ground. “Gyahaha! I’m the Greatest Magician after all! Look what I can do!”</p><p>Piers crosses his arms, turning to look at the Headmaster, who’s gazing at the carnage in shocked disbelief. “So, what’s the plan, Headmaster? Aren’t you supposed to stop this or something? Also, can you <em> please </em>release me from the whip?” </p><p>He tugs again on the cord, but it’s made of <em> stupidly </em>firm material. Seriously, how the hell is this whip so tight?</p><p>“Ahh! At this rate the school will be a sea of fire!” Crowley suddenly shouts, ignoring Piers. </p><p>That <em> is </em>true. He got a taste of those flames earlier in the coffin room, which had, in fact, gone up in a sea of flames. It was a miracle that no one had gotten seriously hurt. Though that isn’t to say this encounter would go the same way, unless Crowley does something about it.</p><p>“Somebody, catch that raccoon!” the Headmaster finishes, desperately. </p><p>Piers blinks. </p><p>He says, carefully, “You’re going to shove this mess to your students, when they’re literally all on fire right now.”</p><p>As if to prove his point, the turbaned man drops to the ground, screaming, and performs several log rolls in succession, right by Piers’ foot. </p><p>“Great plan,” Piers applauds. “Let the kids handle it. I agree with you, Headmaster. We might even be able to take care of this with only a few hundred casualties.”</p><p>Crowley watches the turbaned man roll by, then clears his throat. “Someone other than Kalim, please!” he adds. </p><p>What kind of useless headmaster was this? And this man ran a school? No way. Piers wouldn’t even trust Crowley with a pet, much less an entire school of students.</p><p>“Guh… Fine. I’ll take care of this stupid monster.” Piers leans down, and reaches for his shoe.</p><p>Crowley whirls around, faintly hopeful. “You mean you’ll do it for m—<em> why are you removing your shoe. </em>”</p><p>“Shh,” Piers mumbles absentmindedly, clamping his free hand over Crowley’s mouth, ignoring the muffled protests. Then, closing one eye and taking careful aim at the dark shape flittering amongst the smoke and flames, he grabs hold of his shoe and very firmly hurls it at Grim.</p><p>It leaves his hand faster than he expects, flying with the speed of a small airborne missile. He had put a little extra <em> oomph </em>into that throw just in case it came out too weak, but perhaps it was a little too much.</p><p>It blurs as it cuts through the air, slicing straight through smoke and fast enough that by the time Grim notices the projectile targeting him, it’s too late. </p><p>“Wha—a <em> shoe?! </em>” Grim screeches, paws windmilling as he attempts to get out of the way.</p><p>It slams straight into Grim, the thick sole colliding head-on with the furry monster and sending him tumbling through the air. </p><p>“Ooh,” Piers grins triumphantly, pumping his fist into the air. “A headshot. Nice!”</p><p>“No, not nice!” Crowley manages to push Piers’ fingers off his mouth, and splutters, “The raccoon is still spitting fire everywhere! You just made it angrier!”</p><p>Piers glances over to where Grim had fallen. The flame-throwing cat looks furious, spurting jets of fire into the air and towards the audience stands, forcing the crowd to cringe back to avoid getting turned into ash. Some robed figures were attempting to fight back, but between the smoke and the mayhem of students running wild, most of the spells go wide and only contribute to the destruction being thrown around.</p><p>“Ah,” Piers says, articulately. “Don’t worry, I still have a plan.” </p><p>He reaches for his other shoe.</p><p>Crowley seizes his hand before he can take it off. “No! No more shoe throwing! Do you know how much these custom-designed Night Raven College’s dress shoes cost?! Agh, someone <em> else </em>, please take care of the raccoon!” </p><p>Piers frowns. “<em> I </em> thought the shoe throwing was a smart idea,” he mutters to himself, but he’s jolted out of his thoughts by a sudden cry, alerting him of the incoming attack. </p><p>“Get down, first year!” </p><p>“Gah!” Piers drops to the ground, rolling sideways against the cold stone. His spine tingles right as a jet of fire shoots overhead, colliding with the stone wall behind him. </p><p>Somehow, Grim had managed to find him through the throngs of other students around them, and he apparently still held a grudge from their earlier chase <em> and </em> the shoe that had nailed him in the head. That, or Grim is just really, <em> really </em> angry. </p><p>Glancing up and making eye-contact with furiously glowing blue eyes, Piers decides that he has no problem at all believing the cat held a grudge. </p><p>Crowley yelps, apparently safe and also seeing what Piers sees. “The raccoon! It’s coming this way! Prefects, catch it!”</p><p>“Che!” One of the addressed prefects mutters, tail flicking irritatedly. “If it's just catching some stupid raccoon, can't you do it yourself, Teach?”</p><p>Piers’ gaze is drawn towards the <em> tail </em>that appears out of his ceremonial robes. A tail! A real, animal tail, too! Was this a magic thing, too? And, more importantly, would the prefect be upset if he pulls it? Just a light little tug, that’s all.</p><p>He’s roused out of his thoughts when another of the gathered prefects, this one a tall, fair-haired beauty adds, “Yes, headmaster, we all have our hands full here with the students.” </p><p>The beautiful man flicks his wrists, an elegant rustle of his ceremonial robes, and from his jeweled stick a stream of icy crystals shoot out, preventing several spells from colliding mid-air.</p><p>Crowley hesitates, considering the pandemonium in the room for a moment. “…Well…Some of you can handle the students, and the rest—”</p><p>“I could do it,” Piers offers. He looks down at his shoe, then slowly raises his gaze to Crowley’s hat. “Just give me something to throw. Judging from my earlier throw, I think my aim’s pretty good.”</p><p>One of the hooded figures chuckles, and Piers turns to look at the source. From the gathered huddled prefects, a glasses-wearing man steps forward, blue hair glinting silver in the lighting. “As amusing as that would be, there’s no need for any more drastic measures. I would be glad to take this task upon myself. Mr. Crowley, please leave it to me.”</p><p>Piers eyes the glasses man, his gaze sweeping down from head to toe. He’s not sure exactly how reassuring the man’s statement was supposed to be, but Crowley sags in relief. </p><p>“Thank you, Azul!” he exclaims, beaming. “Is anyone else going to follow his excellent example—?”</p><p>“You don’t need to keep asking, Headmaster,” a short red haired man from earlier cuts in, walking forwards. He places a hand on his hip, stating, “I can’t overlook those who break rules. Before this ceremony can dissolve even further into chaos, we’ll take care of the creature.”</p><p>The red haired man is even shorter up close, Piers notes to himself. It’s not particularly useful or intriguing information, but when the red haired man stands right in front of them, it’s hard <em> not </em> to realize how far down he has to look just to glance into his eyes.</p><p>It wasn’t even as if anyone else here was that much taller, just this man in particular was… well, small.</p><p>His name is henceforth Small Red, Piers decides, nodding in self-satisfaction.</p><p>The red-haired man catches his gaze, seemingly aware of being watched, and scowls.</p><p>Small <em> Angry </em>Red, Piers amends.</p><p>The beautiful man nods, still holding his own shiny stick in his hands. “While Riddle and Azul take care of the creature, we’ll handle damage control,” he says. “And make sure the students don’t harm themselves more than they already have. Honestly, the utter thoughtlessness of their actions…” </p><p>“Hah? Speak for yourself. Why should I do something so troublesome…” the lion-eared man grumbles, tail swishing hypnotically. </p><p>“Hmph,” says the floating tablet in the air. “That’s Azul and Riddle for you. How nice for the situation to be resolved so easily. Ah, I’m so glad I didn’t come today. I absolutely can’t stand raccoons. They’re not cute at all.”</p><p>A floating tablet! If the tablet hadn’t been more than an arm’s length away, Piers would’ve grabbed it right out of thin air. Instead, he only squints at it, trying to get a read of the symbol on the screen. Is this magic, too? Or is the tablet another species of creature?</p><p>“How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not a raccoon!” The screech is audible from all the way across the stage, the auditorium amplifying it even further. “I’m the Great Grim, who will become the greatest genius magician!” </p><p>So saying, Grim puffs up, switching targets towards Glasses and Small Angry Red (SAR, for short). The next jet of flame, thin and elongated, nearly reaches Glasses’ robes before dissolving. Though the flame doesn’t harm Glasses, it does leave a long, black, scorched trail along the wooden stage platform.</p><p>Crowley whimpers, clutching his face as he takes in the new scratch on the floor. Piers pats his shoulder consolingly. There, there.</p><p>Glasses hums, unfazed by the close call. “Well, it certainly has moxie. Shall we, Riddle?”</p><p>Small Angry Red scowls, withdrawing from his robe a shiny stick. “Enough talk. Let’s go!”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Grim starts attacking before Red and Glasses can even get close, and from there the fight starts. It’s, for lack of better words, exciting.</p><p>“Whoo,” Piers softly cheers, tapping his foot impatiently. “…but it’s really irritating to watch someone else fight and be sidelined.” </p><p>He frowns down at his remaining shoe, the front of which is black and peeling from an earlier encounter with Grim’s fire. He doesn’t particularly enjoy being benched, especially when he knows he can help.</p><p>He has to admit though, Azul and Riddle <em> do </em> make a good team. Even without any magical knowledge, he can sense at least that much. Their spellwork is quick and efficient, each taking care to cover for the other. Every few seconds, Piers feels another prick of electricity jolt up his arm as the spells, the magic in the air making the hair on his arms stand up.</p><p>Riddle’s magic is terrifyingly efficient. Piers can’t tell if he’s speaking any spells out loud or just silently casting; the fire drowns out all other sounds. Every wave of his shiny stick forces Grim back, red flame clashing with Grim’s blue and hedges rising into the air to cage him in. Azul is just as quick, sending in streams of water to extinguish Grim’s flame and sheets of ice rising through the air to back Grim into a corner.</p><p>Incredible. Flashes of blue and red alternate, sparking when they collide, and dissipating into smoke just as quickly. Piers can barely keep up, his eyes straining to catch a glimpse of their fight.</p><p>It still isn’t enough. Grim is surprisingly nimble in the air, his small form weaving through the spells that fly around him, and his fires forcing Riddle and Azul on the defensive. Every time it appears that Riddle and Azul have him cornered, another powerful blast of fire forces them from pursuing the advantage. For now, despite Riddle and Azul’s slight edge, Grim shows no intentions of letting up.</p><p>Riddle flicks his stick and a jet of black light erupts from the end with a roar. Grim, undaunted, breathes another plume of flame. The spells collide and explode, sparks of white and blue falling onto the stage, flames erupting wherever they settled. A few sparks fall towards the audience stands, but are intercepted by a cluster of boulders and disappear before they can reach them.</p><p>“Oh,” the beautiful man says, amused. “So you can do it after all.”</p><p>“Quiet,” growls the lion-eared man, holding an intricately carved staff. He slams the end against the floor, and another boulder collides with a fireball, exploding into dust.</p><p>“Nyahaha!” Grim cackles, sticking his tongue out as he dodges yet again, irritatingly smug and untouched. “As if you small fry could catch me, I’m the Great Genius after al—<em> wah!” </em> </p><p>He backpedals through the air, barely managing to avoid a stray shot of ice from Azul’s wand.</p><p>Crowley watches the scene with his hands clenched so tightly that his glove tears. “My school…my stage…!” he cries out mournfully, going pale every time a stray blast so much as scratches the wall. “How could that raccoon do something like this! Even against Rosehearts and Ashengrotto!”</p><p>“Well,” Piers says pensively, “Grim’s not doing so hot either. Ooh, nice pun.” He pauses, and nods to himself in agreement. Then he quickly shakes his head, getting back to the point. “Uh, no, ignore that. Um, I think Small Angry Red and Glasses have the upper hand in offence, but the furball is just annoying to catch, so they’re stalling until Grim runs out of stamina first.”</p><p>Crowley turns slowly, a strange expression crossing his face. “Is that so? To me, it appears as though Rosehearts and Ashengrotto are having a fair amount of trouble.” </p><p>Piers shrugs easily in answer. “Dunno. Maybe you’re right. I don’t know them well enough to guess accurately, but I think it’s pretty obvious, right? I mean, Glasses definitely isn’t going all-out. He showed off a pretty powerful ice spell earlier when he sprouted up that huge wall, right? If he used that more, he might be able to corner Grim. But he isn’t—maybe because they’re trying to be careful about damaging the stage or the students—so they have a different plan. They’ll probably try to drive Grim into complacency or exhaustion before surprising him.”</p><p>Crowley’s stare is intense enough that Piers actually feels a little bothered by it, a prickle going up his spine. He fidgets restlessly, playing with the blackened ends of his sleeves.</p><p>“You’re actually a rather critical observer, surprisingly,” the Headmaster says, the praise grudgingly forced out as though he could barely believe it himself. </p><p>Hey! What was with that ‘surprisingly’? Piers definitely hasn’t done enough to warrant this level of skepticism. At least, he doesn’t think so.</p><p>“That doesn’t sound like a compliment at all,” Piers grumbles, a small pout crossing his face. He’s <em> not </em> sulking. </p><p>The Headmaster shakes his head. “No no, it was most definitely a compliment. Well then, trouble student, what would you do in this case then?” </p><p>“Trouble student?” he parrots, a furrow in his brow. “Wha—are you talking to me, Crowman?”</p><p>What is with all these attacks on his person? Piers is almost offended. He’s been behaving pretty well, actually! And it’s not his fault that all of this happened! If you’re going to blame someone, blame Grim!</p><p>“<em> Crowley </em>,” the Headmaster says pointedly. Then he sighs. “Touché. Well? You didn’t answer the question.”</p><p>Piers frowns down at his feet, scuffing them together as he thinks. What would he do in this situation? Is he being tested? </p><p>Crowley waits patiently, the silence dragging on, only interrupted by the explosive noise from the fight.</p><p>“Well,” Piers says finally, looking up. “Nothing, because their plan is already working. They must’ve already realized it’ll be easier to drag it out and <em> then </em> go for the decisive blow, so that’s what they’re doing. But the price of that is a longer fight, and I guess more property damage.”</p><p>As though to prove his point, his mind buzzes a warning as a large icicle embeds itself into the stage beside his foot. </p><p>Piers blinks down at the icicle by his foot, barely missing his toe, and nudges it. “See?”</p><p>Crowley winces, as though he’s been physically hurt even though the shard had been nowhere close to harming him. “No no no, not if more of my school is destroyed! Another plan. One that could end the fight quickly! You definitely have an idea, right?”</p><p>Piers licks his lip, humming thoughtfully. In this sort of situation, with Grim’s attention focused entirely on Riddle and Azul, what would he do? </p><p>He looks down at his feet, one bare, and the other still in his shoe. Then he looks back at Crowley.</p><p>An idea slowly forms in his mind.</p><p>“Well,” Piers says, smiling brilliantly. “I’d create a distraction.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Azul is starting to get just the slightest bit frustrated with the fight. It’s more troublesome than he’d appraised at first, and it’s even more irritating that he <em> knows </em>Jade and Floyd are somewhere in the audience and delighting in his performance. </p><p>The creature is too fast to catch straight on with a spell, so for the past few minutes he and Riddle had been focusing on herding him, limiting his escape options instead of attacking head on. </p><p>It’s working, but the battle is still far from over. If nothing else, the creature is tenacious, stubbornly slipping through the thinnest of gaps between their spells before returning fire just as harshly.</p><p>He’s not sweating yet, even though the heat from both Riddle’s and the creature’s fire is enough to make his glasses fog up, but if this drags on too long it’d be troublesome.</p><p>Azul’s mind races as he searches for the next step, the next strategy, the next hex. He needs to create an opening so that Riddle can land the decisive blow. </p><p>He raises his magical pen, swiftly dispelling the stream of fire with a wave of water before it can hit him, and Riddle takes advantage of the creature’s split second in between attacks to shoot off a fresh column of flame.</p><p>“Nya!” the creature flails, but manages to just duck under Riddle’s fire, triumphantly safe. “Tsk, a-as if that could hit me—GYAHHH—!”</p><p>It’s so quick that Azul nearly misses it, the blow that finally catches Grim off guard. </p><p>From seemingly out of nowhere, a flying black object nails him so decisively in the head the cat barely has time to register before it slams into him and sends him spiralling through the air.</p><p>“A <em> shoe </em>?” Riddle says, bewildered enough to lower his magical pen for the briefest of seconds.</p><p>It is <em> definitely </em> a shoe.</p><p>The timing could not have been better. The object must have been thrown so precisely that it flew just under Riddle’s jet of flames, concealed by the thick smoke, and thus managing to slip right under Grim’s radar. </p><p>After having chased the cat throughout the entire auditorium, Azul feels more than a little bit vindicated by the pesky monster’s yelp of pain, but there’s no time to spare. Grim is already recovering, having burned the offending missile to ashes, and this time his attention is on someone else entirely, its fiery, glowing blue irises fixed over Azul’s shoulder.</p><p>“Why is it always <em> you </em>—?!” The creature shrieks, fire sparking with every angry breath. “And stop throwing shoes at—ARGH!”</p><p>“MY HAT!” the Headmaster wails.</p><p>“It was the hat or the Mirror! Your hat’s ugly!” </p><p>Before the creature can even launch another attack, a hat lands on his face, this time covering his head entirely, muffling Grim’s cries of protest. </p><p>Azul doesn’t waste any time, and a single glance at Riddle is enough for both of them to understand. </p><p>Now. They need to act now, or they won’t have a better opportunity. </p><p>Moving in quickly, Azul slams his pen against the ground, and summons once again the towering sheets of ice. Three walls immediately fence Grim in, enclosing him in the tight space. Still struggling to get the hat off, the creature doesn’t even realize it’s being cornered until it bumps into one of the walls. </p><p>But by then, it’s too late. Riddle’s pen flashes, and the prefect shouts, decisively, “OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!”</p><p>“Ngyah!” Grim has finally thrown off the hat, only for the collar to snap tight around his neck. The cat immediately falls to the ground, landing on the frozen ground with a yelp. He paws futilely at the collar indignantly. “The heck is this!?”</p><p>“Laws of the Queen of Hearts Number 23!” Riddle draws himself higher, his eyes flashing with triumph. After the trouble the creature has just given them, Azul is more than understanding. “<em> One shall never bring a cat into a festival </em>. You being a cat means you've broken the rule. I shall have you leave at once!” </p><p>“I’m not a cat!” Grim retorts, and huffs. “I’ll just burn this collar right up, and—e-eh…?” For the first time since having interrupted the ceremony, the cat actually looks frightened. “I-I can’t use my fire!”</p><p>Azul smiles pleasantly, inserting himself into the conversation. “As wonderful as ever. Any and all magic gets sealed by your Unique Magic, Riddle. I wouldn't ever want that cast on me.”</p><p>Truly a most useful spell. The things Azul could do with that sort of power at his hands… but no, he already had more efficient methods to steal away someone’s magic.</p><p>The thought makes him smile, and the cat shivers, shrinking away from the two of them. “Wh-what, my magic?! Give it back!”</p><p>Riddle ignores him, picking the cat up easily by the collar, holding him a careful arm’s length away so it couldn’t scratch him with the paws. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it back after you’re thrown out. Until then, enjoy the collar.”</p><p>“Ngyahhh!” the cat struggles limply in his hold, unable to land so much a scratch on Riddle. As expected, the Heartslabyul prefect was truly wonderful at covering all his bases.</p><p>“Excellent job, Rosehearts, Ashengrotto!” The Headmaster’s jubilant voice follows them, and both Riddle and Azul face the headmaster as he rushes their way. “As expected of two of my top students! What wonderful work!”</p><p>“You’re too kind, Headmaster,” Azul assures him, smiling modestly at the praise. “I only did what anyone else would’ve done, that’s all.”</p><p>“Yes, yes, of course! Now, as for the creature.” The Headmaster’s smile drops, and his expression grows stern. He turns to his side, addressing the student standing next to him. “You.”</p><p>Azul hums, observing closely for the first time the person standing next to the Headmaster, pouting at the floor as Crowley begins to scold them.</p><p>It’s the first year, as expected. Azul had only the barest flicker of interest when he’d first seen him barge into the ceremony so dramatically, but that had died once the mirror had proclaimed him to be without magic. He had no use for someone without any magical abilities, after all. So he had dismissed him without another thought, feeling only mild annoyance that the Sorting ceremony had dragged on so long.</p><p>Then the first year had nailed Grim with a shoe <em> and </em>the Headmaster’s hat, giving them the crucial opening they’d needed to end the fight, even if through unconventional means. It had been a throw with terrifying accuracy, and timed just perfectly enough to catch the creature off guard, and, well…  </p><p>Perhaps it was time for a second appraisal of what he’d overlooked the first time. </p><p>Riddle glances over at him, and a frown creeps onto his lips. “Hmph. Another troublesome person you've taken an interest in, Azul.”</p><p>Azul chuckles lightly, folding his hands over his jacket. “Oh, no, I’m afraid interest is too strong a word. Merely the faintest wisps of curiosity, I assure you. I should at least get to know the person I’m indebted to, wouldn’t you say?”</p><p>“…if you phrase it that way, then anyone would have to agree,” Riddle mutters, looking away. His frown deepens. “I can’t say I’m too happy about being helped by such a blatant rulebreaker, either.”</p><p>Azul smiles, glancing at Riddle once again. Though the Dorm Head had sounded unhappy when he phrased those words, Riddle’s gaze as he stares at the supposed rule breaker undeniably had a spark of interest as well. </p><p>How intriguing, indeed. </p><p>Though, staring at the first year now, Azul can’t deny that he’s a bit… disappointed. </p><p>“Will you shut up about the hat? I told you I had no choice!”</p><p>“It was custom-designed! It’s not easy to find a provider with fabric as high quality as my hat had been! And your familiar just burned it up!”</p><p>“<em> Not </em> my familiar,” the troublemaker protests, crossing his arms. “You asked for a quick solution, right? I just gave you a practical demonstration. Think of all the property damage I saved you from!”</p><p>An altogether pointless conversation, and a rather idiotic one as well. The Headmaster is being his usual dense self, refusing to listen properly to the new student’s words, and the new student seems to be just as stubborn, but about all the wrong things.</p><p>Riddle’s brow twitches, his face growing more and more irritated as the argument drags on. </p><p>Azul sympathizes. Seriously, no one cares about the hat. There are definitely more pressing things to talk about, no?</p><p>Case in point, Grim starts wriggling in Riddle’s hold. “I’m not that stupid human’s familiar!”</p><p>“Exactly!” the new student exclaims, nodding vigorously. “See, even he agrees, and he tried to kill me a few minutes ago.”</p><p>Crowley huffs, placing his hands on his hips. Drawing himself up, he starts indignantly, “That’s what they all s—”</p><p>“Now, now,” Azul cuts in, sensing the argument is about to renew itself. As both the Headmaster and the new student turn to look at him, he smiles charmingly, diffusing the tension. “I apologize for interrupting, Headmaster, but it is true that the new student was a big help. Perhaps he shouldn’t have stolen your hat—”</p><p>“And burned it,” Crowley mumbles dejectedly.</p><p>Azul resists the urge to roll his eyes, his smile straining only the slightest bit. “Which resulted in the loss of your hat,” he agrees, and when the new student opens his mouth to protest, he quickly continues, “but in this case, I’d say it was a necessary move, and at any rate, what’s done is done. We still have more important matters to take care of, no?”</p><p>He emphasizes the last bit, smile widening as Riddle pointedly holds Grim up for inspection. </p><p>“Put me down!” The cat complains, swinging wildly in Riddle’s firm grasp. “I’m not a toy to show off, dammit!”</p><p>The Headmaster coughs, seemingly back to his senses and realizing that now isn’t an appropriate time to have a childish argument. “Ahem… Right as always, Ashengrotto. I suppose we can put those… <em> trifling </em>… matters away. As for the familiar—”</p><p>“Headmaster, I believe the new student has already stated it’s not theirs,” Azul asserts, and the new student nods enthusiastically at his words. “And given the series of events that just occurred, I’m inclined to believe them.”</p><p>“E-eh?!” Crowley looks taken aback, slowly opening and closing his mouth. “You did?!”</p><p>The new student presses his lips thinly together, and in a forcibly even voice, says, strained, “<em>Yes</em>, you stupidly deaf <em>useless</em> <em>crow dude</em>.” </p><p>What was the point of mediating if the new student was going to be purposefully antagonistic? Azul can feel a headache incoming, and resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He has an image to uphold, after all.</p><p>From the sidelines, still within earshot of the conversation but very obviously not participating, Leona snorts, as though sensing Azul’s turmoil.</p><p>Crowley grits his teeth, but miraculously does not respond to the jab. Clearing his throat in an attempt to restore his authority, he says, “Erm, anyway, let's get it out of the school. We won't turn you into a stew. For I am gracious. Um, someone, please—”</p><p>“There’s no need to ask anyone else, Headmaster,” Riddle interrupts, still holding the dangling creature out in front of him. “I’ll take care of it.”</p><p>“Gyaaaa! Let me go!” Grim wails, swaying furiously to no avail. “I'm going to, going to...become the greatest magician!”</p><p>Riddle doesn’t stop marching, and soon Grim’s wails are cut off by the heavy slam of the audience chamber doors, the quiet that follows almost startling.</p><p>Azul sighs, glad to have gotten rid of the nuisance at last. That was at least one problem off his mind. </p><p>“Now, then.” Azul turns back to the new student, and offers his hand. “My name is Azul Ashengrotto, I’m the Dorm Head of Octavinelle. Your help was greatly appreciated, first year.”</p><p>The new student studies his hand curiously, as though having never seen a handshake before. In a flash, those violet eyes flit upwards to meet his own, and Azul is briefly frozen by the intensity of that gaze. </p><p>Then, tentatively, he reaches out and, but right before their hands would meet, he freezes, staring at his palms with a confused expression.</p><p>Azul frowns, wondering if he should pull away. “Is there a problem?”</p><p>“N-no,” the first year murmurs, but his focus is entirely on his palms. He turns both palms outwards, as though searching for something. “But my hands are…” </p><p>Azul waits for a further explanation, still holding his hand out, but none is given. Instead, the first year shakes his head, the hesitance vanishing from his countenance, and finally accepts the handshake, closing slim fingers around Azul’s hand. </p><p>His palm is soft and smooth; unblemished. Azul wonders briefly what the first year had been searching for on such untouched skin.</p><p>“Sorry about that, but uh, no need for the thanks. I’m just glad at least <em> someone </em> appreciates my efforts,” the new student says lightly, with a cheeky smile. “Um, I’m Piers. Nice to meet you, uh… Azul.”</p><p>“Nice to meet you,” Azul echoes, and his smile widens. “Welcome to Night Ravens College, Piers. I’m sure you’ll have an <em> interesting </em> year.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There… there was more, but… I had to stop. A lot more was supposed to happen but I decided to cut here instead.<br/>First major battle scene here! Hopefully it wasn’t too complicated or confusing. I hope no one’s too upset about how Azul and Riddle ended up needing Piers’ help. In the game it’s a rhythmic and you end up chasing Grim for a fair bit, so I changed it to make it a little more drawn out than it would be.<br/>Also I made the other prefects handle damage control, because it’s better than them doing nothing.<br/>Azul and Riddle would’ve been able to catch Grim fine on their own, of course, but it would’ve taken more time. All Piers did was give them the perfect opportunity to exploit, nothing more. Uh, even if it did involve shoe-throwing.<br/>I hope by now his personality’s a little clearer! He… is somewhat smart, but uh definitely lacking in methods.<br/>Honestly Crowley’s hat deserves to be shredded I have no regrets. Though, the line about the Mirror or Crowley’s hat comes from another draft where Piers throws the Dark Mirror, cracking it a little.<br/>If you’re wondering why Piers is surprised when looking at his palms… well, chapter one has the answers.<br/>Thank you for reading this far! If you have any questions, comments, or other things you want to share, please comment!<br/>Next Chapter: How to Renovate a Haunted Mansion, featuring 3 Ghosts and a Cat</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 3: How to Renovate a Haunted Mansion, ft. 3 Ghosts and 1 Cat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Total Damages: Two chairs, four random wooden planks, the floor, some walls, and other burned furniture.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Wow,” Piers says, gazing up at what looks like the skeletal remains of what was once a house, but now could only barely qualify for a stack of rotting wood. “You were definitely right, crow dude. This place is </span>
  <em>
    <span>super</span>
  </em>
  <span> charming and </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely</span>
  </em>
  <span> not creepy at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To accentuate his statement, a gust of wind chooses the perfect moment to blow by, rattling the old iron gates and causing leaves to fall from already-bare trees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley coughs, struggling with the iron gate. The hinges seem to have rusted shut, if the low creaky moan it emits as it’s forcefully opened is any indication. “Right, well, I know it doesn’t look promising, but I’m sure with a little cleaning it’ll be hospitable again…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t worry about me,” Piers assures, slipping past the iron gate to follow the headmaster inside. “I love houses that have a tendency to collapse on me at any time. It’s the thrill that’s so enjoyable, see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Headmaster appears very strangely focused on getting the front door to open, which also provides a perfect excuse for him to avoid making eye-contact.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers takes the silence as a victory, his point having been made, and then appraises the run-down house again. Honestly speaking, it’s not… </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>bad? Definitely not what he expected when the Headmaster mentioned an old unused dorm, but it had four walls and a roof that was only a bit broken. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>barely qualified for a shelter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why had he agreed to stay in this poor excuse of a house again?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ah, right. Because he has nowhere else to go, and even if he did, he doesn’t remember anything anyways. Honestly, he’d zoned out for the rest of the Sorting Ceremony, after Riddle had taken Grim and left, and the blue glasses fellow—uh, his name was something like Azur? Azul? Well, one or the other—had introduced himself, so his memories were a blur.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Somehow, everything had been wrapped up neatly, with some of the Dorm Heads arguing amongst each other over some dude named Mal—Mally? Molly? Something like that!—and it had led to Crowley agreeing to let him stay here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Apparently his case of amnesia might be more serious than he had originally thought. Memories going missing, and a whole chunk of them too, wasn’t a normal occurrence, even at a magical academy. Crowley had promised to do further research in the library in his own time, but Piers isn’t sure how trustworthy that is. Given what he’s seen today, he might as well have lost his memories permanently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, not that Piers is too upset about losing his memories. He’s only vaguely disturbed that there now existed a giant “???” where other information should’ve been stored. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not like he knows what he’s lost, after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If nothing else, his case of amnesia and his dilemma of where to stay had gotten Crowley to finally stop whining about losing his hat, so it was a win! …Even if it did involve staying in not-entirely-safe houses.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley sighs, and seems to give up on the door altogether, kicking it open with a huff. Piers’ eyes twitch at the massive plume of dust that rises into the air at that simple movement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well. You win some, you lose some. He’d just have to bear with it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley peeks back, and gestures for him to enter. “Please follow me inside, Piers!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, yes,” Piers muses to himself, “because this totally seems chill and not at all suspicious. Just follow the strange crow-masked person into the old, run-down, deserted house. I definitely don’t see any problems with that.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Against his better judgement, he follows the Headmaster in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first thing that hits him, while his eyes struggle to adjust to the sudden darkness, is the </span>
  <em>
    <span>smell</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The scent of rotting wood, dust, and mold seems to permeate every wall of the dorm, suffocatingly thick and impossible to ignore. He swallows heavily, a shudder crawling up his spine as the smell pervades his senses. Coupled with the impenetrable darkness, it’s overwhelming, a sensation creeping up his throat that is both sickening and </span>
  <em>
    <span>familiar</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>dark, dark, dark heavy cold rotting heavy smells</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers covers his face, trying not to choke on the thick dust in the air. It does little to block out the putrid odour, though, and he can feel his breath quickening, an involuntary panic setting in that he doesn’t understand, but he can’t stand it, he needs out, right now </span>
  <em>
    <span>right now—</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then suddenly, the room is illuminated in a gentle yellow glow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Headmaster exclaims triumphantly, “A-ha! There we go. Come along now, child—” he pauses, brows creasing, as he turns to face him. “Piers? You look a little pale. Are you still with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers exhales shakily, his heartbeat slowly settling. The light, emitted from a lamp held in the headmaster’s grasp, casts a warm, mellow glow over the dilapidated furniture and the dust-covered floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s fine. Whatever that feeling had been, it’s leaving now, the tremors in his spine chased away by the gentle glow of the lamp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep!” he responds after a moment, injecting some cheer into his voice, hoping it would be enough. “I’m just in awe of the interior decorating. It’s not everyday that I get to see cobwebs being used as a tablecloth.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley stares at him for a beat longer, almost enough to make his smile strain, but seems to accept the explanation. “Alright, if you say so. Well, at any rate, I’ll leave you here for today to get, er, </span>
  <em>
    <span>acquainted</span>
  </em>
  <span> with your new living space. Staying here should keep you out of the rain. I’ll come back later to deliver some more essentials—clothes, food, the type. You’re not allergic to anything, are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers runs a hand down the wall, pulling his hand back and examining the dirt collected on his palm. “Your guess is as good as mine. We’ll just have to pray I don’t eat something bad and die.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair enough,” the Headmaster sighs. He sets the lamp cautiously down on a chair, which very charitably doesn’t collapse. “I’ll go do some research in the meantime, so make yourself at home. Dust some of the furniture off, or patch up the holes in the roof. A little cleaning will do this place a whole lot of good. Oh, and don’t go wandering around the school! I can already tell you’re a bit of a trouble magnet, so stay put! No more breaking anything, understood?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Trouble magnet? You ruin </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>ceremony, for the first time ever (that he could remember), and now everyone labels you a delinquent. Piers is nothing of the sort! He’s a good, honest citizen doing his best to get by!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pouting, he turns back to the Headmaster, who is awaiting his reply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Got it, chief,” Piers mock-salutes. “Get rid of the dust, fix the roof, and no trespassing or breaking things. I’ve got this, don’t worry!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Headmaster doesn't look the slightest bit reassured by his response, but nods anyway, apparently realizing that was the best he was going to get. “Alright then, goodbye. Take care.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that, the Headmaster turns away and walks back out, the loud slamming of the door slamming shut behind him the only indication of his exit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Left alone in the house, the doors rattling and the walls moaning rather eerily, Piers eyes his own reflection in the glass of the lamp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow,” he says out loud, “I’m really off to a great start.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The house, of course, gives no reply. Not that he’s expecting one, anyways.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers rolls his torn and singed sleeves up, and adjusts his ponytail. “Guess it’s time to get to work, then.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>See, theoretically, he knows how to clean. It’s not a hard concept to grasp: Apply rag to surface. Brush dust away. Wipe surface with wet towel. Wait to dry. Rinse, repeat, voilà!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Simple, quick, and certainly not as hazardous as </span>
  <em>
    <span>this!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Piers definitely isn’t feeling the easy, breezy, beautiful right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m doing just great,” he huffs to himself, wobbling precariously on his perch that he’d hastily constructed by assembling a few chairs together into a monstrous tower standing on four legs. “Yup, this is fine. Don’t think about the chairs breaking at all. Or falling off.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stretching up onto the balls of his feet, Piers extends his arm, attempting to reach the corner on top of the shelf where a sizable growth of mold had taken root. Just a little closer… almost there… balancing carefully, he takes a triumphant swipe with the rag, grinning as he successfully manages to clear the first of the mold away—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hyiiii!” An unpleasantly familiar voice complains, “It’s really coming down!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers yelps as the noise breaks his concentration, flailing as his chairs teeter at his sudden imbalance. “Waa—argh!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The chair he was standing on tips over, and Piers barely manages to brace himself on the dusty floor and roll out of the way before the whole structure topples over with a thunderous crash. Panting as he rolls, a fine collection of dust gathers on the exterior of his already ripped, scorched, and singed robes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ow, ow, ow,” he gasps, stumbling to his feet. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to have broken any bones, and other than some mild stabbing pains he was perfectly alright. He sucks in a deep breath. Yup, just fine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gah!” the voice exclaims again. “What was that?! N-no way, could it have been a gh-ghost?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s there?” Piers calls out, peeking his head back into the living room to check out the source of the noise. “If it’s a murderer, I’m warning you, I’m not very satisfying to kill—Oh.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His voice trails off, and for a second he blinks in surprise at his unexpected but very familiar visitor. “Ah,” he says eloquently. “You.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ahhhh!” Grim stumbles backwards, pointing a paw at him accusingly. “You! You’re the stupid human from the ceremony! You hit me with a shoe, twice! And a hat!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The accusation takes him by surprise, and before he knows it, he’s already retorting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re the cat who tried to set me on fire!” Piers argues, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was self defense, okay? Self-defense! And the hat wasn’t even that heavy!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha—well, you hit me with the lantern to the face even earlier!”</span>
</p>
<p><span>“Hit you with the—</span><em><span>of course I did! </span></em><span>Did you miss the part where you tried to set me on fire?</span> <span>Because I think it’s really important you remember that you tried to </span><em><span>set me on fire!”</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, the two of them come to a standstill, mutually glaring into each other’s eyes and huffing after their respective outbursts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers is the first to give, tossing his rag onto the floor. “Yeah, whatever, we’ve already gone over all that. Honestly I’m a bit sick of people bringing that up, so what do you say we call this over and forget about it? Hm? Pretty good deal, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He extends a handshake, waiting expectantly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim sniffs, eyeing his dirty, soot-covered hand imperiously. “As if I could forget about what you did! It really hurt, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha—you’re going to reject my goodwill?” Piers takes his hand back, incredulous. “Alright, fine! Pay up the damages for my robes then. O-oh, and my shoes!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim scowls, looking down at Piers’ feet. “You’re wearing your shoes right now! I don’t need to fix anything!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“These are just the shoes that the crow dude gave me after you </span>
  <em>
    <span>burned my old ones</span>
  </em>
  <span>—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“—because you threw them at my </span>
  <em>
    <span>face—!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, so it evens out anyways!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Newly exhausted, Piers slumps against the wall, panting. He really doesn’t have the energy to do this right now, not after everything else. He should learn to stop responding to the creature’s provocations, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh,” he says, groaning. “At this point, I don’t even care anymore. Why are you back here anyways? I thought Small Angry Red threw you out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmph.” Grim puffs up proudly. “As though that would be any obstacle for me. If you think getting thrown out is gonna make me give up on getting in, you've got another thing coming!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, is that so,” he responds flatly, unimpressed. “I mean, judging by the state of this place, I can’t say the security is much good either, which is a shame because I’d really love to call for a bouncer or something to remove this squatter from my shelter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cat hissed, hackles rising and eyeing Piers warily. “I’d like to see you </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span>, human! I’ll do anything to stay at the school!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers glances up at the roof, as patchy and broken as it is. The rain is still hammering pretty heavily, rattling the wooden support beams and causing a steady drip of water to pour into the buckets he’d set on the floor. The wind is even worse, howling and swirling with reckless abandon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wouldn’t even wish for his worst enemy to be out in the rain with no shelter, even if that meant letting the pyromaniac cat monster (possibly homicidal) stay with him. Curse his bleeding heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, you can stay for a while then,” Piers says finally, already regretting his decision. “At least until the rain stops. Just don’t set anything else on fire.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim freezes, startled. “That easily? You’re not even going to ask me why I want to go to this school?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, not really,” he admits, shrugging. “I mean, it’s probably personal, right? If you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers has no clue, to be honest, why Grim is so passionate about going to this school, but if it’s a reason important enough that the cat had been willing to burn down the audience chamber, it must’ve been incredibly meaningful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though what kind of reason would motivate someone to go that far? Maybe the school has some really delicious food or something. Hm, Crowley did mention it was a prestigious academy, but did that mean the food was top quality too?</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hmm, food… his thoughts trail off, eyes glazing over as he imagines a banquet of delicacies drifting before his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not…” Grim looks away, his words faltering. “…It’s not… something like that. I just </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to get into this school. I'm a genius who is destined to be a great magician, so…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His sentence trails off, the words lacking their usual boastful confidence. But Piers could already guess what Grim had been about to say. The Ebony Carriages hadn’t come for him. And now, after his debacle at the Sorting Ceremony, it was unlikely they’d even consider him for a prospective student. Grim must’ve been thinking the same, because his ears droop pathetically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In his current state, Grim is almost too pitiful to tease. There’s nothing fun about kicking someone when they’re already down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugs. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I really do forgive you for everything that happened today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim perks up, looking at him almost hopefully. “Really? That quickly?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pfft, no.” Piers laughs, raising himself on his elbows to grin down at the cat. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>try to kill me, right? And almost succeeded. But hey, since I’m such a </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>gracious </span>
  </em>
  <span>person—” he exaggerates the words in an imitation of Crowley, “I’ll forget </span>
  <em>
    <span>aaaaalllllll</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it if you let me punch you just a few times. How ’bout it?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiles brightly, raising his fist in preparation, his cheerful expression at odds with his words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Visibly recoiling, Grim hisses, hackles raised, “Who would agree to that deal?! You’re a crazy, violent human! Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you hitting me with a lantern, two shoes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>a hat!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not wrong,” Piers admits with a grin, unfazed. “But hey, the Dark Mirror still let a ‘crazy, violent’ magic-less human into a magic school, so obviously the Mirror isn’t omnipotent, right? It clearly made a mistake with me. So…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stops, waiting to let the cat fill in the blanks himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…That’s true,” the cat mutters, looking like he was mulling the thought over. His eyes light up and he exclaims, “So if the Mirror could let a useless person like you into the school—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Okay, this is the gratitude he gets after trying to cheer the furball up? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Useless </span>
  </em>
  <span>is just cruel! Sure, he might not be able to use magic, but he can still do other stuff. Like throwing shoes! And cleaning! All essential skills, too!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“—then maybe it’ll also let me in!” Grim finishes eagerly. His eyes gleam hopefully. “It really could’ve made a mistake!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep, yep,” he says easily. “Well, now that you’ve got that all sorted out and you’re cheered up, let’s get to the point, shall we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Grim furrows his brows. He looks around warily as though expecting something to pop up behind him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers grins, and then reaches behind him to pick up the cleaning rag he’d dropped a few minutes ago, now covered completely in dust. He drops it in front of Grim, and plants his hands on his hips. “Get up, furball, we’re going to clean this stupid house.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Clean?</span>
  </em>
  <span> No way! Just do it with… magic…” Slowly, the cat trails off, just remembering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wish,” Piers says, wistfully. He picks Grim up by the scruff of his neck, swinging him gently. Grim squawks indignantly. “Unfortunately for us, I’m a useless magicless human, right? Buuut, luckily for me, I have a genius great magician Lord Grim here who’s always willing to help! Right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Put me down!” Grim cries, batting at his hand offensively. “I don’t want to clean! Why should I help you? At least offer me a can of tuna if you want me to work!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fresh out of tuna, sorry. We do have some possibly radioactive mold growing over the fireplace, if that’s your kind of thing.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whistling merrily, Piers proudly displayed the soot-covered fireplace in the living room, which indeed had a suspicious collection of black ooze in the corners.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim shudders. “If you try to feed me that, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>roast you,” the cat says, utterly serious.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers considers the mold for a second, looking from the cat to the fireplace. Probably not worth the risk to try, then. “Alright, noted. Then what </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>told </span>
  </em>
  <span>you, I want—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hihihihihihi… Such noisy guests we have! We haven’t had anyone over in so long…!”  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The unfamiliar voice is so startling and out of nowhere that Piers stiffens, instinctively clenching his fists. He accidentally squeezes Grim, who’s still in his grasp, and immediately relaxes before he can hurt the cat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But for once, Grim isn’t complaining. He goes utterly still, looking over Piers’ shoulder with an expression he’s never seen on the cat before. It almost looks like… fear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, that’s promising,” Piers mumbles to himself. Not even the Headmaster, or even Azul and Riddle, had frightened the cat, and they’d all been openly hostile. What could possibly be terrifying enough to make </span>
  <em>
    <span>Grim </span>
  </em>
  <span>cower like this?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well, guess he’s about to find out. Steeling himself, Piers turns around, fully prepared to see an eldritch horror or some ungodly leviathan standing behind him in the living room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He blinks. Then rubs his eyes, and blinks again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s just three pale people, floating an inch above the floor, one of them plump, the other lanky, and the last one short. That </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>a little alarming, but considering that this was a school for magic and Grim also had been floating, not a cause for concern. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So as far as he can tell, the only threat they pose is their ridiculous matching hats and cloaks get-up. Maybe if he plays his cards right, he can get Grim to burn those too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Laughing with relief, he relaxes, patting Grim’s head soothingly. “What are you so scared for, Grim, it’s just some more people in the dorm. Didn’t know you were that skittish, but you’ll have to get used to it. The Headmaster likes to pop up behind me randomly, actually.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?” Grim stares as if he’s lost his mind, still pale and trembling. “N-no, you stupid human, those are—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, come on, don’t be rude to strangers,” Piers chastises, and then approaches the three figures in the room. Huh, now that he’s getting closer, he’s starting to notice some little details. Like how they seem to be just a little bit transparent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alright, so that’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit</span>
  </em>
  <span> weird. But it’s not altogether unbelievable, considering he doesn’t really know what magic’s fully capable of. Piers isn’t one to judge based on appearances, anyways.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For some reason, Grim whimpers as they approach the figues, squirming helplessly in his grip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The three floating, slightly transparent people observe him with matching mischievous grins. Piers waves in greeting, stopping right in front of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry about Grim,” he says apologetically, smiling. “He’s not usually shy around new people, but for some reason he doesn’t seem to take well to y’all. Maybe it’s the hats? Can’t say I like them much either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He holds out his hand, reaching up to grasp the plump one’s pale hand. “I’m Piers. I’m sort of staying here from now on, so nice to meet… you…?”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A shudder goes down his spine the moment their hands make contact, and for a moment his vision darkens, the faint ringing in between his ears turning into a high-pitched whine. His hand feels like it’s been submerged in ice cold water, and he stares, disbelieving, as his hand phases right </span>
  <em>
    <span>through </span>
  </em>
  <span>the person’s arm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers stares, unable to tear his gaze away, equally horrified and fascinated by this new discovery. With a bit of effort, he wriggles his finger, </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside the person’s arm</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and another shudder goes down his spine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He slowly raises his head and looks the person—are they even a person?—in the eye. The plump figure, pale and translucent, grins widely, smug amusement etched into every corner of their expression.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Welcome to Ramshackle Dorm,” it says liltingly. “I’m itching for action after all those lonely years! How about you guys? Want to play a game~?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other two one either side of the plump one nod eagerly, leaning in uncomfortably close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“GHOSTS!” Grim squeaks, shrinking back. Piers stays frozen for a little longer, his gaze darting rapidly between his hand and at the two floating spectres. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Very, very slowly, Piers lets his hand fall away from the failed handshake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Almost mechanically, he raises his other hand, with Grim still in it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“H-hey, where are you putting me,” the cat panics, squirming uneasily as Piers brings the cat closer towards the ghost. “L-let me go! Get me away from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>ghooost—nyaagh!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His words are cut off with a shriek as Piers plunges his hand—still holding the cat—straight through the plump ghost’s chest, his wrist tingling as though submerged in ice water. With his other hand, he immediately starts tapping Grim’s head non-stop, as though pressing a button.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Flame on, flame on, flame on!” Piers chants almost hysterically, tapping even faster. “Come on, Grim, do the thing! Switch on! Now!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“GYAAAAAAH!” Instinctively, Grim opens his mouth and blows a jet of hot flame right through the ghost’s chest, a long stream of blue that extends up to 10 feet beyond the ghost, hitting the wall on the other side and searing a harsh black line into the wood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eeek!” Yelping, the plump ghost vanishes from sight, and with a swoosh of wind reappears ten feet further. “Hooooott!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim gasps for air as the ghost disappears. “Put me down </span>
  <em>
    <span>right now! </span>
  </em>
  <span>How dare you treat the Great Magician Grim like a toy?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I panicked!” Piers says defensively, still holding Grim tightly. “And, hey, you’re basically a glorified flame thrower anyway! Just shut up and do your job!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other two ghosts, upon seeing their friend get roasted, back away nervously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not how you play this game,” the lanky one complains. “Fire is cheating!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Boo, boo!” The short ghost blows a raspberry into the air. “Let’s play fair and square!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers brandishes Grim at them, and the ghosts recoil in sync.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“STOP IT!” Grim screeches, struggling to free himself to no avail. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>told </span>
  </em>
  <span>you to </span>
  <em>
    <span>put me down!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Upon seeing the ghosts back away, Piers looks back at Grim in amazement. His heart is still stuttering unevenly as he struggles to calm down from the earlier scare (look, how often do you accidentally slip your hand </span>
  <em>
    <span>through someone else’s arm?! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Try doing that and </span>
  <em>
    <span>then </span>
  </em>
  <span>see how you’d react!), but now that he finally has time to breathe, common sense takes over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So the ghosts weren’t just impervious to all attacks after all! Piers had been terrified when his hand slipped through the ghost earlier (</span>
  <em>
    <span>things you can’t punch are scary, okay? How is he supposed to fight if he can’t just hit?) </span>
  </em>
  <span>but Grim’s fire seems to actually be effective! Who knew the cat could actually be useful? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His confidence tentatively rebuilding now that he knows he still has </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>way to fight back against the ghosts, he raises Grim, holding him like bug spray, a finger poised on Grim’s head where the nozzle would be. “Alright! Things I can’t punch are scary, but at least I can do this</span>
  <em>
    <span>fifjsdiajflwiefl GRIM DO THE THING!” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yelping, Piers flails his arm up and down wildly in response to the lanky ghost suddenly appearing in his face. Apparently the disappear-and-reappearing thing was an ability that all the ghosts held. That would’ve been good to know, but he doesn’t exactly have the peace of mind to even consider it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Instead, he pushes Grim into the ghost’s face, and cries, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Flame! On!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim screeches something unholy but does, if only out of self-preservation and at the surprise of being shoved mere centimetres in front of a ghost. This time, though, the ghost darts away fast enough that only the very tail end of Grim’s fire passes through their cloak and only sears a nice black line on the wooden floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mm, Crowley is going to throw a fit over that one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Teehee! Where are you aiming?” the lanky ghost calls, taunting, and Grim’s hackles rise. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ngaaah! Put me down, human! I need to show this ghost who’s—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! If I let you down, I don’t have anything to defend myself with!” Piers objects, taking a few measured steps so his back is to the wall. No more pesky ghosts surprising him from behind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim hisses, offended. “I’m not just a weapon for you to use!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, say that late—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers cuts himself off, jumping left as the short ghost swoops towards them. The ghost’s outreached hand misses him by a bare centimetre, and whirling around, he points Grim towards the spectre. “Fire!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ghost swoops up before the cat can hit him, cackling gleefully. Instead, the fireball hits the opposite wall with a loud crackle, setting the wood ablaze. “No, no, you’ve got to be faster than that!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dammit.” Piers looks around the room, eyeing the ghosts warily. “If we keep going like this, we’ll just end up setting fire to the dorm before we even manage to scratch the ghosts. Oi, cat, don’t you have spells you can use or something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim growls, digging his paws into Piers’ hand, almost hard enough to draw blood. He winces, but doesn’t let go. “I don’t answer to you! Why should I work with such a useless human?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey! It’s not like I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span>—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hearing a whoosh of air come from behind him, Piers instinctively punches with his left arm, only to realize his mistake as a shudder runs up his spine. His fist goes </span>
  <em>
    <span>through </span>
  </em>
  <span>the ghost’s face, momentarily distorting their features, before slamming into the wall behind it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wall splinters, leaving a small in the shape of his fist, but the plump ghost is utterly unfazed. It giggles, blowing another raspberry, before swooping overhead and diving towards Piers again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh shit,” he chants, withdrawing his arm and pointing Grim at the ghost again in wide-eyed desperation. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate </span>
  </em>
  <span>these things. I really </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> hate things I can’t punch! Grim, come on!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me what to </span>
  <em>
    <span>do!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Grim shouts, and furiously exhales a wide-area attack, blowing his fire out in a semicircle. The ghost doesn’t manage to avoid it this time, shrieking as the flames wash over him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes!” Piers grins, triumphantly. An actual hit! And once again, the fire is effective! Now if Grim could just keep that up… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But then Grim directs the flames </span>
  <em>
    <span>downwards</span>
  </em>
  <span>, towards Piers’ right hand, and his triumph immediately fades.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“AUGH,” Piers yelps, letting go of Grim as fast as he can, shaking his hand to air the sizable burn now forming on his palm. “Wha—why’d you burn </span>
  <em>
    <span>me?</span>
  </em>
  <span> The </span>
  <em>
    <span>ghosts</span>
  </em>
  <span> are our enemies! The enemy of my enemy is my friend, remember?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Serves you right for treating me like that!” Grim cries smugly, soaring freelly into the air. “Now sit back in awe and watch how I deal with these—</span>
  <em>
    <span>gyah!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lanky ghost chooses the perfect time to pop up in Grim’s face, causing the cat to fall out of the air in surprise, landing with a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thwack </span>
  </em>
  <span>on the floor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers throws Grim a thumbs up. “Yeah, you’re doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>great</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Just what I expect out of the great genius magician!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim struggles to his feet, flustered. “S-shut up! That was just a fluke!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You too! Let’s all play together!” The plump ghost calls out excitedly, and Piers winces. He’d been hoping that Grim would be able to occupy their attention for longer, but looks like it’s no use. Both the short and plump ghost turn to circle around him, Piers eyeing them carefully as they slowly float around.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is so fun!” The short one says gleefully, and Piers ducks as the ghost makes to embrace him, an involuntary shiver crawling up his spine as their spectral form passes right over his head. “We haven’t played like this for so long! Come on, let’s really enjoy ourselves!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers swallows, eyeing them warily as he backs away. Dammit, Grim, of all times to start acting rebellious…! </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, hold on, we can, uh, we can talk about this, right?” he babbles, holding his hands upwards as a plea. “L-like, I’m not fond of this game. Maybe we can play another?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The plump ghost stops, consideringly. “Hmmmm, but this one’s already pretty fun. What else do you have in mind?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like, uh,</span>
  <em>
    <span> oh shit—</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“‘Oh shit’—?” the ghost starts, eyebrows rising, but Piers doesn’t get to hear the rest of it. He throws himself to the ground, just in time for Grim’s fireball to pass cleanly through the plump ghost and the short ghost, landing two solid hits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gyaaahh!” the ghosts scatter, flitting away immediately. “Hot, hot hot!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cheating!” the plump one wails. “You distracted us! Unfair!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like hell I was!” Piers retorts, pinking himself up gingerly. He examines his robes to check for any new burn marks, not that there was much left to salvage after all it’d been through. “He almost hit me, too! Oi, watch where you’re aiming, stupid furball!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then get out of the way faster,” Grim bites defiantly, then sprays another wall of flame towards the ghosts. “Let’s see who’s winning this stupid game!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When I catch you, I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to roast you,” Piers mutters under his breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unfortunately, he doesn’t have much more time to banter. The ghosts are regrouping, and they look even angrier than when they first started. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, now, we’re here to have fun,” the plump ghost trills, rising into the air. Piers edges backwards, but the ghost follows him, spreading its arms out like it’s looking for an embrace. “Let’s not end this game so soon~!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Out of desperation, he picks a chair off the ground and flings it at the ghost, knowing it’s of no use. The ghost hadn’t been damaged by any physical attacks earlier so he has no faith in this one working either. He just needs a way out, or a bit of time… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Graahhhh!” Grim bellows, and just as the chair passes harmlessly through the ghost, the cat hurls a fireball at it, setting the chair on fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeek!” The ghost whimpers, and reverses direction to rush at Grim instead. But Piers doesn’t pay their fight any attention, his eyes focused intensely on the flaming chair that had just passed through the ghost.</span>
</p>
<p><span>The ghost had definitely cringed back when the flaming chair had passed through them! So is it just fire in general</span> <span>that’s effective on them, and not </span><em><span>magical </span></em><span>fire in particular?</span><span><br/></span></p>
<p>
  <span>Slowly, an idea starts to form in Piers’ mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glances around at the scattered furniture in the living room, most of which is already well on its way to destruction. There’s plenty of ammunition lying around now that Piers knows what to look for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Grim!” he calls out, hoping the cat can hear him from the opposite end of the room. “Set it all on fire! The chairs!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you gone crazy?!” Grim ducks back, defensively blowing a jet of flame at the plump ghost before it could reach him. “Are you trying to burn down the whole building?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not like there’s much left to burn anyways,” Piers points out, then shakes his head. “No, I mean, just do it! Trust me, I have a plan!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you plotting now?” the short ghost rushes at him, taking a swipe at his head, and Piers is forced to stop before he can explain to dodge the blow. Rolling to the side, he kicks harshly at a wooden chair, causing it to break apart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Grim!” he shouts, picking up a chair leg. “Come on, we’ve got this! Fire over here!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We won’t let you~!” The plump ghost calls out cheerily, and Grim growls as the lanky ghost joins the plump one to crowd the cat against the wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With an explosive burst of flame, Grim forces the two ghosts back, and darts into the air again, streaking towards Piers and the short ghost. “Fine!” the cat yells. “But you owe me a can of tuna for my hard work, okay? No, wait, four cans!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If we have any tuna lying around, I’ll give it to you,” Piers agrees immediately, still slowly backing away from the short ghost and holding his chair leg out in front like a weapon. “Um, Grim, any time now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Grrrr…! Remember, you asked for it, human!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Too late~” the short ghost says liltingly, and reaches for Piers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But before the ghost can close it’s spectral arms around Piers, Grim acts. Swelling up like a balloon, the cat releases a flare of flame so bright Piers nearly shuts his eyes, squinting at the fireball streaking towards him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hold… hold… </span>
  <em>
    <span>now!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The short ghost just barely manages to twist so the fireball only skims his shoulder, but Piers is ready for him. Swinging out harshly, he hears the chair leg pass through the fireball, the wood blazing almost immediately upon contact. Without hesitating, he twists, following up and holding on to the chair leg with both hands, and brings the flaming chair leg straight down like a sword through the short ghost in one powerful, fluid stroke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ghost shrieks—actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>shrieks</span>
  </em>
  <span>—like it’s in full on pain, and disappears from view. It’s the first clean hit that Piers has landed this entire fight, and it feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredible</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The little slot of fear and anxiety that had been restlessly disturbing his chest finally bursts at this small victory, and a victory won through his </span>
  <em>
    <span>own </span>
  </em>
  <span>strategy, nonetheless. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Finally, he can do something. He’s no longer helpless anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers grins, his confidence soaring, brandishing the chair leg at the other two ghosts challengingly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, let’s end this game, shall we?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Piers has managed to set no less than two chairs and four random wooden planks on fire to use as projectiles by the time the ghosts finally turn tail and flee the scene, deeming it their loss.</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes!” Grim shouts jubilantly, dancing gleefully as the ghosts flee. He shoves a paw into the air triumphantly, and declares, “Hehehe! We won! Haha, this is nothing for the Great Grim! How ’bout that, ghosts? You done?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers laughs, still lying face-down on the ground. That had been more than enough action for today, and even though he isn’t tired, he still feels a little too hot, like he’d overheated during that fiery mess. Unsurprising, considering exactly how much fire had been thrown around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, we showed them,” he grins, lifting himself onto his elbows so he can look Grim in the eye.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim scoffs, crossing his arms haughtily. “Please, if it weren’t for my amazing magic you couldn’t have done it at all! I basically did all the work!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers would’ve argued, but he’s still in a good mood from their victory against the ghosts, so he decides to let that one slide. “Sure, if you say so. But hey, we did pretty well, didn’t we? I mean, if you cut out the first fifteen minutes of random flailing about.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lifts his hand up for a high-five. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim eyes it warily, which is completely unwarranted after the frankly </span>
  <em>
    <span>awesome </span>
  </em>
  <span>teamwork that they just pulled off, but taps his furry little paw against his palm anyways. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers grins, smugly. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>wearing that stubborn little cat down! Just a bit more and maybe Grim would finally start calling him by name instead of just ‘human’.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heh. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> feel nice to have earned the respect of such a temperamental creature. Maybe if Piers tried hard enough he could even tame Grim? With, like, tuna, maybe? The cat had indicated his interest in the fish earlier. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s in the midst of imagining laying out a trail of fish before he’s rather rudely dragged out of his daydreaming by a loud thunk, followed by a loud, horrified wail.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“WHAT HAPPENED IN HERE?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim startles, stopping mid-dance with a yelp of surprise. His head whips towards the door, poised to attack, as though he’s expecting the ghosts to return.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Piers’ heart sinks as he recognizes the voice. He hurriedly jumps to attention, dragging his body off the floor. “Oh shit.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Standing in the doorway is Dire Crowley, a fallen plastic bag on the floor beside him, his mouth open in horror, his eyes wide and disbelieving behind the mask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>…What was it the Headmaster had said before he left again? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“…Oh, and don’t go wandering around the school! I can already tell you’re a bit of a trouble magnet, so stay put…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, not that. The other thing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“…no more breaking anything, understood?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>…Ah, yeah. About that… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the first time since he and Grim fought off the ghosts, Piers takes a good, hard look at the room. There are several rather large and conspicuous holes in the wall, the jagged edges still smouldering slightly from Grim’s fiery assault. Oh, not to mention the overturned chairs and desk that is still on fire, blazing merrily in the corner of the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Er,” Piers says, shuffling to the side to slowly stomp out a lingering flame, for all the good it does. The headmaster’s horrified gaze snaps to him, pinning him to his place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He clears his throat, smiling angelically. “Crow dude! Um, welcome back. We’re, uh, renovating?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>In a great demonstration of dramatic irony, the desk falls apart with a loud crackle.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Slams face into wall. Slams face into wall. Slams face into—<br/>^ If anyone is curious about how it felt like to write this chapter, there’s your answer. Pain. Pain and suffering. And lots and lots of deleting.<br/>The original draft for the ghost chase was even longer and it would’ve involved Grim and Piers running upstairs to hide and set up a trap for the ghosts that would’ve involved purifying an iron poker with Grim’s fire and some of the coal leftovers to produce refined iron and then Piers jumping down from the rooftop and ambushing them while Grim set everything else on fire to prevent the ghosts from escaping easily.<br/>Then I looked at the word count and spared myself the pain, because the ghost fight honestly isn’t even that important narratively wise and I can’t keep doing this for every fight, so this is what you got. <br/>This actually isn’t even the full length of the original chapter—the original clocks at around 16k, then I cut it into two chapters.<br/>There’s a lot in here that I wanted to say, and I’m not sure everything came across perfectly, so if there are any questions feel free to ask! Hopefully nothing was too complicated.<br/>Grim &amp; Piers are really fun to write! Surprisingly, their dynamic comes to me rather easily and I keep adding more banter for the two of them and that’s probably why the word count is so long. They’re friends! Or at least friendlier than canon at this point. But, well, Grim would never admit it, and Piers likes to tease, so it might take a while for them to actually progress to that. <br/>Next chapter: How to ACTUALLY Renovate a Haunted House, ft. 3 Ghosts and 1 Cat.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. How to ACTUALLY Renovate a Haunted House, ft. 3 ghosts and 1 cat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Total Damages: Emotional Damage (Crowley), Emotional Damages (Grim), Ramshackle Dorm, and Threats (Crowley’s Hat)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Crowley is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>pleased, but in Piers’ defense, this mess wasn’t even entirely his fault.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Besides, if the Headmaster had mentioned the ghosts previously, there would’ve been no need to fight. Actually, if Crow Dude had even bothered to clean the place up a bit at all before throwing an amnesiac, unsuspecting, magicless human into it, none of this would have happened either. Really, what was the Headmaster expecting Piers to do after being confronted by such scary beings? Nothing? So all of this had been self-defense! It’s completely justified! And if Crowley really wanted to avoid this outcome, he should’ve been more proactive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers patiently explains all of that, in excruciating detail, to an unimpressed Crowley, whose lips are pressed tightly together with repressed emotion. They’re sitting down at the dusty dining room table, on old, crickety chairs that wobble under the slightest shift of weight. He’d just finished recounting what had led to the semi-destruction of the living room, after Crowley had dragged them down and insisted on hearing about what had happened.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim is grumbling petulantly as he floats above his own chair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not this stupid guy again…arriving after the ghosts are gone already, how useless! Why are we even being questioned, it’s not our fault!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shh,” Piers whispers back even though he agrees with the cat, eyeing Crowley’s darkening expression. “His pride is delicate. Wait until after he’s left to say it, or he’ll get upset.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear </span>
  </em>
  <span>you, you know!” Crowley exclaims, his eyebrow twitching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hear what?” Piers blinks at him innocently, folding his hands in his lap. “No one said anything, crying owlet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley takes a deep breath, looking like he’s holding himself back from a tantrum. “It’s. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Crowley!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he exclaims. “And that’s not the point. We’re here to talk about the wanton destruction of the living room! And </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He spins around, jabbing accusingly at Grim. “You’re the raccoon monster I ordered to be thrown out at the Entrance Ceremony! What are you doing back here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not a raccoon!” Grim shouts indignantly, batting Crowley’s finger away aggressively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, headmaster, he’s not a raccoon, he’s a cat,” Piers agrees, looking at the headmaster pityingly. “You can’t tell? Maybe it’s the crow mask hindering your vision. Try taking it off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley pinches the bridge of his nose, just under the crow mask, “I left you alone for </span>
  <em>
    <span>thirty minutes.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” His tone almost verges on a desperate whine, regret and disbelief colouring his voice. “In that time, you’ve managed to destroy the living room </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>allow an uninvited monster into the dorm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, crowbar, with all due respect,” Piers starts to say, but is cut off by Crowley’s protest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not respectful at all!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With the minimally due amount of respect,” he corrects himself accordingly, “You left me alone for thirty minutes with </span>
  <em>
    <span>ghosts</span>
  </em>
  <span>. This was the natural outcome.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Exactly!” Grim slams his furry paws against the table, which is less frightening than he seems to be going for since the only sound that’s produced is a dull thud rather than an actual slam. “I exterminated the ghost problem! You should be thankful that we took care of the situation while you were away!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup, what he said.” Piers nods in agreement, then adds, “Also, I don’t work for free, got it? Please cough up, uh, a million or something cans of tuna to cover the ghost extermination fee.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley sits back, his temper seeming to cool. He pointedly ignores Piers’ request for payment. “…Now that you mention it, there were some prankster ghosts that kept students away from this dormitory…I’d forgotten about it since the dorm had been empty for so long, but…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, hold on,” Piers raises a hand to stop Crowley. At the headmaster’s pause, he says slowly, his brows knitting together,  “So you’re saying you </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>there would be ghosts camped out here and you still threw me in anyways?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His voice dips dangerously on the last syllable, but the smile rests on his face, sharpening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley clears his throat, hastily looking away to avoid eye contact. “W-well, of course I would’ve mentioned it, but it’s been so long since we’ve had to deal with these problems and I figured…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You figured that…?” Piers repeats, smile widening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Headmaster squirms, looking properly fidgety and abashed. “U-um, well, of course I had not wished for you to be harmed… There was a lot going on tonight, and I had much to consider with your whole situation, so…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, no, I understand </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Piers’ smile is light, but delivers each word as sharply as a knife. “But I’m just going to clear up some facts right now, so we’re on the same page, okay? Let’s see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clearing his throat, he begins reciting. “You knew about the ghosts, but still threw me here despite knowing I’d be powerless and clueless. Sure, it’s been a busy day for both of us, so let’s say you forgot about it because it’s been a while. I can understand that! But you didn’t even think to check or anything? Or, what, you saw this </span>
  <em>
    <span>shack </span>
  </em>
  <span>and didn’t see any problems letting someone live in this waste dump?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smiles brilliantly, waiting for a response.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s…” the Headmaster grimaces, but can’t deny any of the facts presented to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or maybe you just didn’t care enough to do anything about the situation, because it’s too troublesome, so you figured you’d let me handle myself and deal with the aftermath. And, hey, if I died, that’d be convenient for you, right? No more problem students living on your campus, and no more extra expenses going towards me! And if I took care of the ghosts and lived, even better! Now you get to exterminate and renovate the house for free!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t even bother waiting for Crowley to respond, steamrolling over whatever protests he might have.  He’s just about had enough of this stupid crow dude acting like some gracious saviour and taking the moral high ground when there’s none left to take. It’s been a long day, and he has no more patience for this useless headmaster to get his shit together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry</span>
  </em>
  <span> right now, he realizes, for the first time he can recall. The sensation is almost foreign, and it takes him a second to identify the way his temper is surging and his blood is boiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sooo! At best we can say you were careless, at worst we can say it was wanton endangerment of my life. Neither of those sound very good, right?” Piers tilts his head to the side. His eyes glint dangerously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I—” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But! Don’t worry!” Piers cheerfully claps his hands together, cutting Crowley’s response short. “Since I’m such a </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>forgiving </span>
  </em>
  <span>individual, I’ll let this slide! We can clear the slate and start over. That’s what you want, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley opens his mouth to respond, but keeps silent, his expression guarded. Satisfied at his lack of response, Piers continues on gamely, ignoring the tension that had fallen over the group.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In return,” he pauses to think about his requests, “How about you let Grim stay at Ramshackle too? Oh, and take care of renovations for us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim startles at being suddenly addressed, his eyes wide and disbelieving. “M-me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers raises an eyebrow, turning his gaze onto the cat. “You don’t want to? I thought your whole gig was that you wanted to get into this school?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“N-no! I mean, yes! I’m staying here, whether you want it or not! I’m not giving up on getting into this school!” Grim quickly recovers, slamming his paws against the table in an attempt to assert his dominance again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See? He’s very passionate about it. It’s a good thing I caught him before he could try to set fire to the school campus elsewhere,” Piers hums. He looks back to the Headmaster, waiting. “Well? How about it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley purses his lips, acquiescing reluctantly. After a longer pause, he finally respondsed. “…Very well. Your reasoning is... sound. Normally I could not allow a monster and a magicless human to remain at this school, but as we’re all aware, circumstances are very different this time around.” He sighs. “I’ll request for someone to fix the dorm, but it may take some time for renovations to finish.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s fine,” Piers relaxes, shrugging easily now that his demands have been met. “As long as you can promise that something will be done, that’s good enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, of course. However.” The Headmaster straightens, and says, “I can’t allow you to stay for free.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure,” Piers agrees, nodding easily. “What d’you want me to do? My previous work experience is zero, and my skills include throwing shoes and burning hats.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t touch my hats,” Crowley says immediately, then shakes his head. “No, forget about that. I'll have you do maintenance and odd jobs around campus as the “handymen” of the school. You will receive special permission to remain on school grounds and you’ll gain access to the library and other campus buildings, should you wish. However, only after you’ve finished your assigned tasks for the day. How does that sound?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers considers his proposition, turning the idea around in his mind. It’s a pretty good plan, for someone as careless as Crowley, and he doesn’t have any problems with it. He’s never tried his hand at cleaning or maintenance or anything of the sort (unless you count his attempts with Ramshackle, as short-lived as they were), but it can’t be too difficult, right? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eeeh!? No way!” Grim protests petulantly. “I don’t wanna! I want to be a student—!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers claps his hand over the cat’s mouth and smiles brightly. “Sounds good,” he says lightly, warding off Grim’s attempts at scratching him and keeping a firm hold on him. “And what about food and clothes and whatever else?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll provide a monthly allowance, just enough for basic necessities. You will also have access to cafeteria meals for lunch. Any more than that, and you’ll have to search for the means to provide for yourself.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers taps a finger against his lip pensively. That’s also fair enough. If it comes down to it, he’ll search for an actual job himself. It might be difficult to find employment as an amnesiac student, but there’s bound to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>workforce that’s willing to take him in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright! Looks like we’ve got a deal.” With a grin, Piers offers his hand. “Shake on it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The Headmaster leaves hurriedly, and Piers watches him leave with only a little bit of triumph. It had felt good to finally vent all of his anger, but now that the moment had passed, it’s replaced by all the exhaustion from the day’s ordeals.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He closes the door once Crowley’s out of sight. Then he turns to Grim and flashes him a grin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How ’bout that? Ready to thank me yet? Don’t worry, I don’t need much. Just a little bit of praise and maybe prostrate yourself before me! Come on, don’t be shy.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim scowls reflexively. “Don’t get ahead of yourself now, human! Just because you helped me out a bit doesn’t mean we’re friends, okay? You still haven’t given me the tuna yet, either!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, you don’t have to get snappy. I was just joking anyways.” Piers rolls his eyes. Stubborn as always. Not even a bit of brownie points after his selfless act? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still, Grim is surprisingly quiet afterwards, so Piers glances at the cat curiously only to see him frowning at the ground, looking unsatisfied. Clearly he still has something he wants to say, so Piers waits, tapping his foot by the entrance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a long moment of silence, the cat adds quietly, “…Why’d you bargain for me? You could’ve asked for anything else and the crow dude would have granted it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I could have,” Piers agrees, his smile twitching in amusement as he recalls Crowley’s chagrined expression. “I got him pretty good, after all. Well, it was nothing he didn’t have coming. I’m just glad I got it off my chest!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim’s mood brightens, a smirk adorning the cat’s face as he recalls, “Yeah, you’re super scary when you’re angry. You sent the crow man running really quickly.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The way Grim says that is almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>awed</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but Piers chalks it up to his imagination because there’s no way </span>
  <em>
    <span>Grim </span>
  </em>
  <span>of all people is amazed by </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not when every sentence Grim has sent to him includes some variation of ‘human’ and ‘useless’.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I didn’t mean to get mad, but it happens sometimes.” He shrugs, helplessly. “Besides, I honestly didn’t have anything else I needed from the crow dude other than renovations, and you really wanted to attend this school, right? Might as well help you out a little.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim falls silent again, and Piers wonders if the cat is starting to fall asleep. It’s not that surprising after all the events that had gone on for today; in fact, he’s starting to feel tired himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They should go to bed soon, if there are still any usable bedrooms. Sure, they might be covered with centuries old dust and filled with all sorts of bugs and creatures, but if he gives it a little dusting and have Grim torch everything else, it should be fine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Lost in his own thoughts, Piers barely hears Grm’s next words, which are said so quietly he almost misses it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“…Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Huh?  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a moment, Piers freezes, his mouth falling open in shock. Grim looks away, staring furiously at the wall to avoid making eye contact.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Had that really happened? He didn’t imagine it, right? The cat had really said—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No way. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No way!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Piers exclaims gleefully, and leans in close. Grim immediately scowls and darts away from him, but Piers keeps up, following him as the cat tries to retreat. “Say that again! What you just said!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim flushes a bright red. “I didn’t say anything!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t lie to me after you’re bright red! Aww, you’re blushing!” His heart feels lighter than a feather right now from how happy he is at this revelation. Piers grins sunnily, and spreads his arms. “Look at you! I knew I broke you down! See, you do like me! Come on, you can admit it, we’re all friends here, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“NO!” Grim’s ears are actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>smoking </span>
  </em>
  <span>now from how red he is. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>adorable</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Leave me alone before I </span>
  <em>
    <span>roast you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, human!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers laughs delightedly, the threat sliding off him harmlessly. “Oh, please, you wouldn’t do that. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>liiiike</span>
  </em>
  <span> me too much for that, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“SHUT UP!” Grim actually flies away this time, hovering above his head and a safe distance away. “That’s it, I’m leaving right now! Don’t you dare follow me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cat turns away and flies up the stairs determinedly. His ears are red. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aww, so soon? We didn’t even get to chat about our feelings together yet,” Piers calls after him teasingly, a grin resting on his lips even after Grim is out of sight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If nothing else, this night isn’t a total waste after all, if he’s managed to win over a flame-throwing cat by the end of it. Hey, it’s an accomplishment. How many others could claim to have done the same?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Piers stares at the hastily patched ceiling of his bedroom with wide, alert eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t sleep. He’s not tired at </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span>. In fact, he’s so wide awake he feels like he can do jumping jacks on the bed to prove how alert he is.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d been exhausted after Crowley left, and had pretty much collapsed into the first bedroom that </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>have holes in the wall or mold growing on the bed after only a preliminary check for bedbugs. Grim had been surprisingly helpful, most likely because the cat was also exhausted and didn’t want to start a fuss. They’d managed to find some blankets that weren’t completely threadbare and dragged it over the bed, and then it’d been lights out for them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’d been the most peaceful sleep he’s ever had (that he could remember), calm and dreamless. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’d also only lasted around two hours, if the clock Crowley had helpfully provided is accurate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This </span>
  <em>
    <span>sucks</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Restlessness buzzes under his skin, keeping him awake and incapable of staying still. He wants to sleep, knows he </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>sleep, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Ugh.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He can’t do this anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shifts, his blankets rustling as he turns onto his side. Curled up on his left in a small little ball, dozing peacefully, is Grim.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” Piers whispers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim doesn’t respond other than a faint twitch of his ear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He reaches out and pokes Grim, nudging him gently. “Grim. Grim. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Griiiiiim</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Hello?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cat stirs restlessly, growling drowsily and batting at his hand irritably.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers pouts, envious of Grim’s deep and easy slumber. He prods Grim again, more insistently. “Hey. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Heeey. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Grim! Come on, don’t leave me awake by myself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Griiiiiiiiim.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Great Magician Grim! Lord Grim? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Genius Magician Griiii</span>
  </em>
  <span>—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Up</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Grim hisses, cracking an eye open just the tiniest bit. His voice is hoarse and sleepy, and his glare isn’t nearly as fearsome as it would be if he was awake. “If you don’t shut up I’ll set the bed on fire, human.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers pouts, again. “I can’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>sleep</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he complains. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then don’t,” Grim responds, his voice muffled as he closes his eyes again. “I don’t care. Just leave me alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turns away pointedly, leaving Piers to stare at his furry back alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Traitor! What happened to all the warm and fuzzy feelings from just a few hours ago? Weren’t friends supposed to stick together through their troubles, thick and thin? After all Piers had done for the cat?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers shakes Grim, abandoning all attempts at being polite. “Nooo, don’t go back to sleep! Can’t you do something about it? Don’t you know a sleeping spell or whatever? Oh, please, Lord Great Magician Grim—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim turns around and snaps at his hand. Piers immediately retreats, holding his hand protectively to his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you don’t stop, I’ll turn ya to ashes,” the cat growls. This time, he opens </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> eyes to glare at Piers. “Get out of bed if you’re not sleepy. Go do something. As long as you’re not bothering </span>
  <em>
    <span>me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>it doesn’t matter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Having said his piece, Grim pointedly burrows back into the blankets.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Best not to push it any further, or Grim might </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>start setting things on fire again, and Piers is not about to give up the only decent bed in the entire dorm. Reluctantly, Piers settles back, staring at the ceiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’d done a decent enough job at patching the ceiling up, but water still drips from the edges. It leaves a rather unpleasant smell, a bit like rainwater and mould, but it could be worse. Considering how run-down this house had been in the first place, this is most definitely an improvement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wow. Piers’ living standards are </span>
  <em>
    <span>depressingly </span>
  </em>
  <span>low after staying in this shack. At least Crowley had promised to get the dorm in liveable condition, even if he hadn’t given them an exact timeline as to </span>
  <em>
    <span>when</span>
  </em>
  <span> that’d happen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Actually, why wait for the crow dude? Even if he’s not a professional, Piers can at least do </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>cleaning on his own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And, if nothing else, it’d be a better use of his time than just lying in bed and hoping for sleep to come back to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sits up, throwing his covers off him, and swings out of bed. His bare feet hit the wooden floor, and he hisses. The floor is </span>
  <em>
    <span>freezing.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim is already sound asleep again. He doesn’t even stir after Piers opens the door with a creak, and leaves the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hallway is dark, but gaps in the walls and some old, cobwebbed windows reveal thin slivers of moonlight. It’s just enough for him to stumble around without slamming into walls, so Piers keeps a hand pressed against the wall while he carefully makes his way down the hallway to the top of the stairs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The living room—or the lounge, he supposes—has been restored to some semblance of order after their earlier brawl, the Headmaster having fixed it with magic. The chairs are back to their positions, the upended sofas have been placed firmly back on their feet, and the rest of the debris has been cleared away. It’s rather impressive considering how ruined it’d looked earlier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers creeps down the stairs, which creak under his steps, and reaches the living room. There, he pads around the couches until he reaches the fireplace. Resting on the mantelpiece, right where he left it, is his rag and cleaning solution.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rag is a little dusty, but it should still be functional. That would be enough for today.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He might not be able to do much, but at least he should get rid of the dust and dirt layer. The other stuff—patching the walls, the roof, fixing the furniture—could all come later. For now, he just has this one job.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unscrewing the cap to the cleaning solution, he pours a bit of the substance onto the rag. Then, without second thoughts, Piers starts scrubbing away at the mantelpiece.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s slow, tedious work. There are so many layers of dust that his rag is already a dark black before he manages to clean even one side of the fireplace, but he keeps going anyway. The repetitive motions are soothing, and his mind starts to drift as he mechanically scrubs, rinses, and then scrubs again, pulling layers and layers of muck from the fireplace. It’s more than worth it when he stands back and let’s himself take in the clean, white wood, now free from all blemishes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers smiles in quiet satisfaction. It’d taken longer than he’d hoped, but he still has the whole rest of the night to fix up the rest of this place. Maybe by the time dawn arrives, he can even show it off to Grim. It’d be nice to see his impressed face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hums in delight at the idea, and then as he turns around nearly has a heart attack as he finds himself suddenly face to face three very pale, ghostly spectres.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart leaps into his throat as he stares at the three ghosts who’d accosted them earlier, all three of whom are watching him very intently. For how long they’d been behind him, silently observing his one-man cleaning session, he doesn’t know. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Holy fuck,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he hisses, barely restraining the scream of surprise. Grim’s still sleeping, after all, no need to wake him up. Holding his breath, he presses his hand against his chest, feeling his heart pounding. He exhales shakily, still pale and trembling from the scare. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers glares at the ghosts, slowly backing away while waving the cleaning rag threateningly at them. He’s not sure what good it’ll do, but it’s better than nothing. “Are you guys back for more? Do I need to wake Grim up again? Just a warning, he’ll be really mad if he has to get out of bed to deal with ghosts.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ghosts exchange a glance, but they don’t make any moves to attack. Slowly, Piers’ guard drops as they back away, giving him just enough room to breathe. The plump ghost raises its hand in surrender.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We apologize for startling you,” the plump ghost says, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>sound remorseful. “We understand you may not be happy to see us after our fight earlier, but we mean you no harm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers frowns, eyeing them cautiously. After sizing them up, he lowers his rag and says warily, “Why should I believe you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We truly mean you no harm,” the plump ghost repeats. He looks over at his ghostly companions, and adds, “We were… overly exuberant when we saw guests arrive. It’s been so long, after all, that we got ahead of ourselves.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure it’s hard for one as young as you to understand, but this dorm has been empty for a very, very long time,” the lanky ghost adds. For a moment, his expression flickers, something like sadness crossing over his features. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We just wanted to play!” the short ghost pipes up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers tries to imagine it. Being abandoned in this old, rundown shack of a house for many years on end, with no one but two others to accompany you. Stuck in this dark, leaky hellhole, with all the mould and bugs and darkness, for an eternity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A shiver crawls down his spine. His stomach turns. For a moment, he feels incomprehensibly </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
  <em>
    <span>it’s dark damp heavy dusty no one’s here where is</span>
  </em>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Little one?” the plump ghost says, his expression concerned. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moment passes. His stomach settles. Piers breathes raggedly, his grip tight on his cleaning tools.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” he says, his voice only slightly strained. “This isn’t about me. Let’s say I believe you, and you just wanted to have fun. Even if that’s the case, what are you doing here now? Why are you following me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ghosts exchange another look, a silent conversation Piers can’t understand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were cleaning the dorm, weren’t you?” the plump ghost inquires. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers blinks, momentarily taken for the loop. He hadn’t been expecting </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be the question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I might as well…” he trails off, gesturing at the fireplace to indicate what he meant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We want to help!” the short ghost exclaims. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The other two ghosts nod eagerly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers just barely manages to stop his mouth from dropping open. “Wait… seriously? You came all the way down here and stood behind me watching me clean to tell me you want to help? Can you even do anything? I mean, you’re sort of…” he makes a </span>
  <em>
    <span>whoosh </span>
  </em>
  <span>noise, waving his arms vaguely. “Y’know, uh, non-permeable? Transparent?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Is it rude to point out how ghosts don’t really interact with the physical world well? Is there a taboo on these things or something? Do ghosts even have topics that they consider controversial? And even if they did, did that mean there were ghostly debates about ghostly controversial topics at ghostly hours in ghostly locations?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wait, no. That’s not important right now. Piers pulls himself out of his thoughts, waiting for the ghosts to respond to his question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thankfully, the ghosts don’t seem to take offense. Instead, the lanky one smiles, looking faintly amused. “We aren’t as useless as you think,” he replies. “But I can demonstrate for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ghost floats over to a chair, and Piers watches, amazed, as the ghost picks the chair up, which glows faintly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Damn. Did not know you could do that… and now I do. Huh. The more you know.” He shakes his head, still a little awed, and focuses back on the task. “Uh, well, if you really want to help me clean I won’t stop you, even if I don’t really get it. I mean, if you guys could touch things, why didn’t you clean yourself instead of letting the house rot all these years?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The lanky ghost’s smile is bitter. “It’s true, we could,” he agrees. “But there’s no point in taking care of an abandoned house.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nobody has been to Ramshackle Dorm in over a century,” the plump ghost sighs, with a tragically nostalgic expression. “It used to be quite lively back in it’s day, but now…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now we have you!” the short ghost finishes, beaming. “So if you’re really going to take care of Ramshackle, then we’ll help!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The short ghost flips mid-air, cheerfully, as though to make a point.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers can’t help but smile at the ghost’s demonstration. “Well, if that’s the case, then it’ll be great to have your help. Um, we got off the wrong foot, but I guess we should introduce ourselves, right? I can’t keep calling you the ‘plump one’, ‘lanky one’, and ‘short one’ after all.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He waves at the ghosts. “My name’s Piers. I don’t actually know anything about myself, and I’m not sure what I’m doing here. And you guys are?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The plump one smiles warmly. “I’m Inky.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Blinky,” the lanky one adds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers raises an eyebrow in amusement, and interrupts before the short one can introduce himself. “Wait, so you’re Inky—” he points at the plump ghost, who waves, “you’re Blinky,” the lanky ghost nods, and he points to the final ghost, “so, what, you’re Pinky? Dinky? Uh, Slinky?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The short ghost looks offended. “No! What kind of names are those? I’m Clyde!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Inky, Blinky, and Clyde,” Piers repeats faintly. He shakes his head. “Alright, then. Those are…  names, I guess. Not that I’m one to judge. But, anyways, I guess it’s nice to meet you again? Uh, I’ll be in your care from now on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inky, Blinky and Clyde smile. In unison, the three chorus, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Welcome to Ramshackle Dorm!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He’s not waking up,” Piers frowns down at the bed, where Grim has cocooned himself among the layers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s morning now, if the sun shining directly into the room is any indication. Piers hadn’t slept another wink that night, instead staying up to clean and chat a little with the ghosts, but strangely enough he doesn’t feel tired at all. Despite having only slept two hours total that night, he feels just as refreshed as if he’d slept twelve. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim, on the other hand, is a whole other problem. Piers had tried politely calling his name, poking him repeatedly, and even jostling him—all of which failed, and all of which has led to Grim burying himself into a blanket burrito where Piers can’t reach him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh.” Giving up, Piers flops onto the bed instead. “Crowbar’s coming around in a few minutes, and Grim is going to be late for his first day of work… this sucks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe we can help?” Out of nowhere, Inky pops into existence beside the bed. Immediately after, in two successive pops, Blinky and Clyde also appear into view.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a yelp, Piers tumbles off the bed, managing to catch himself before his face hits the ground. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hey.</span>
  </em>
  <span> We’ve talked about this! Are you trying to kill me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” the ghost says, but the smirk on his face indicates a lack of remorse. “Force of habit. But, yes, would you like us to wake your friend up? We’re quite good at these sorts of small tasks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers considers it, then shrugs. Why not? It’s not like he has any better options. And hey, maybe it’ll scare Grim into actually waking up next time. Couldn’t hurt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go ahead,” he gestures to the bed grandiosely. “He’s all yours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The ghosts grin in unison, matching mischievous smiles that make Piers rather glad that he’s not the target of it this time. Then, circling the sleeping Grim, they grab him in their arms and start rising in the air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, wow.” Piers whistles, impressed. “Yeah, he’s really going to freak out. Hey, throw him around a little, can you? The crow man is going to be here any second now.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your wish is my command,” Blinky chirps, and then throws Grim over to Clyde, who catches him easily and tosses the cat back into the air like a ball.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s perhaps one of the most bizarre games of catch Piers has ever seen—not that he’s seen enough to really be an accurate judge. The ghosts cheerily throw Grim around like it’s a game of Hot Potato, and with each throw Grim flies even higher through the air. The blanket burrito slowly unravels with each successive throw, slowly but surely exposing Grim.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers grins, watching as Grim starts to stir restlessly, pawing at thin air. “Oi, furball, get your lazy ass out of bed right now or I’ll toss you into the streets.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Unnn…” Grim moans drowsily, attempting to snuggle into his blanket, which falls to the floor, finally untangled after all the tossing about. “Five more minutes… nyaaa…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s almost impressed that the cat has managed to sleep through all of this, and exchanges a look with the ghosts. “Maybe something a little more drastic? Doesn’t seem like he’s ready to wake.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clyde giggles, and then, as Inky tosses Grim through the air one last time, the ghost doesn’t catch him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers jolts to his feet, instinctively rising to catch Grim, who’s now plummeting alarmingly towards the ground, but then Grim shrieks, his eyes snapping open in a second, and manages to stop his fall, mere inches away from a collision with the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gyaaaaaaa!” The cat flails in mid-air, blinking into awareness. “Wha—</span>
  <em>
    <span>g-ghooosts!?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sleeping beauty is awake after all!” Clyde cheers, sticking his tongue out at Grim. “Eheeeheee, almost thought you wouldn’t ever wake up again~ Then we could be ghost friends together, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You!” Grim gapes at the trio of ghosts surrounding him, whirling around in a panic. “You’re the ghosts we chased off! H-hey, what’s going on—”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His voice trails off as he finally takes his situation in properly. Piers waves, drawing Grim’s attention to himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Human!” Grim shouts indignantly. “The ghosts are back again! What’s happening?!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers laughs, waving a hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about them, they’re chill. Actually, I asked them to help wake you up. Thanks, guys!” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shoots the ghosts a thumbs up. Clyde laughs gleefully, disappearing and reappearing, and blowing a raspberry into the air. Inky bows dramatically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was our pleasure,” Blinky says lightly. “After all, we ghosts are the best at pranks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?!” Grim exclaims, looking lost. “What d’ya mean they’re on our side? Didn’t they try to fight us yesterday? A-and you </span>
  <em>
    <span>asked </span>
  </em>
  <span>them to wake me up?!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, yesterday was a misunderstanding. We made up, so now it’s all cool.” Piers shoots the ghosts another smile, and then adds when Grim looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm, “But also, don’t blame me for resorting to the ghost alarm clock. You really weren’t waking up, you know? I’m not going to explain to crow dude why you’re not there at today’s meeting, so come on, we’ve got to go. See ya, Inky, Blinky, Clyde! Hey, Grim, you say bye to them too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bye-bye,” the ghosts chorus, waving after them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not going to say bye to the ghosts!” Grim snaps, then crosses his arms in a huff. “Whatever! We’ll talk more about this later, okay? But right now I need a can of tuna! Let’s go! You said the crow man is coming later?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yup, Crowley should be here anytime soon. Let’s go,” Piers hums, leading the way downstairs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t help but feel smug at the way Grim’s mouth drops open as soon as he takes in the spotless hallway and lounge, which Piers had spent the whole night cleaning. The work had definitely paid off, and with the ghosts’ help, he’d managed to clear all the dust and cobwebs from the entire first floor. There’s still a long way to go before the dorm becomes a proper living space, but for just one night, it’s not bad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did all of this?” Grim demands, astonished. “When did you have the time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Last night,” he replies. “Remember? I couldn’t sleep </span>
  <em>
    <span>at all</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so I decided to be productive. Pretty great, right?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a grin, he stops at the front hall, gesturing at the clean walls and the lack of mould in the corners.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grudgingly, Grim dips his head into a nod. “…for a magicless human, it’s not bad,” the cat admits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers hides his surprise at the compliment with a laugh, placing his hands on his hips. “Oh, wow, I almost thought you were complimenting me. Hey, say it again, can you? I want to make sure I wasn’t just imagining it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim huffs, instantly darting away to hide his expression. “Shut up!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers snickers at his predictable reaction, but goodnaturedly lets it go. There are plenty of other opportunities to poke fun at Grim, after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just then, a series of knocks comes from the door. Grim and Piers exchange a look, and Piers nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Looks like Crowley’s finally arrived. Time to start the day off, then!</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers opens the door, revealing the Headmaster standing in their doorway. He’s carrying a bag full of breakfast, if the smell is any indication. He’s also gotten himself a new hat, somehow even uglier than the old one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning, you two,” the Headmaster greets. “I trust you slept well?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have a new hat,” Piers says, affronted, his eyes on the monstrosity sitting on Crowley’s head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Immediately, Crowley raises a hand to his hat, keeping it secure. “Yes, I did in fact have to break out a new hat from my collection, no thanks to you two!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t like it,” Piers declares, crossing his arms over his chest. “You have terrible taste in hats.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spluttering indignantly, Crowley retorts, “As if a brat like you would know anything about what’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>fashionable! </span>
  </em>
  <span>You’re not coming anywhere near my hats, understand? If you try anything with this one, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>throw you out!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For a brief moment, Piers seriously weighs the pros and cons of getting rid of the hat anyways. He knows he can grab the hat faster than Crowley could react, and in the few seconds he had before the Headmaster attempted to get it back he could definitely burn the entire thing to ashes. But, well, the consequences are getting thrown out of the only place he currently has to stay. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He considers it. The satisfaction of getting rid of the hat, or being homeless?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers sighs mournfully. Unfortunately, it seems as if he’ll have to keep his hands off the hat for now. The storm last night had been bad, and he has no desire to get caught in one of those without a roof over his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” he says reluctantly. “I won’t touch the hat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley eyes him suspiciously, still keeping a hand on his hat. The suspicion is just a little bit over the top, honestly? Piers already agreed not to do anything to the hat. He’s a man of his word! And Crowley still doesn’t trust him?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Forget about the ugly hat,” Grim says impatiently, and Crowley makes a wounded noise at the insult. “What’s in the bag? You better have brought tuna, you old hack!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t believe I graciously agreed to house you two ingrates and even brought breakfast, and I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>being insulted,” Crowley complains, but he hands Grim the bag anyways. To Grim’s delight, there </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> indeed cans of tuna inside, four of them. The headmaster crosses his arms. “A little bit of thanks would be the least you could do after I came all this way for you two!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm,” Piers says thoughtfully, rummaging through the bag of groceries. He pulls out what looks like a loaf of bread except for the white sprinkles on top and sniffs it curiously. It smells warm and sweet, making his mouth water. “Woah, this looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>delicious</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you even listening to me?” Crowley cries, outraged. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up,” Grim grumbles, already several mouthfuls into the can of tuna.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers ignores the headmaster’s grumbling in favour of taking a bite out of the bread, a delighted sound escaping him as he savours the rich flavour. It’s so perfectly sweet that he can’t stop himself from taking another bite, and then another, and then another, until he’s scarfing down the bread like a starving man. It’s absolutely delicious, the bread is fluffy with a creamy interior; a beautiful and savory combination that he can’t get enough of. He’s finished in seconds, nowhere close to satisfied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is amazing,” Piers pauses for breath, and wipes his mouth, smearing the cream around. “Where’d you get this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sam’s shop,” the Headmaster says impatiently. “Now that breakfast is sorted, can I assign you your tasks now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers looks into the grocery bag again, making a soft disappointed noise when he realizes there’s none left. Pouting, he pushes the bag aside and crosses his arm. “Sure. Let’s get to the important stuff. Where’s Sam’s shop?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Not </span>
  </em>
  <span>important,” Crowley exclaims. “Are you taking this seriously? You do realize this is your </span>
  <em>
    <span>job</span>
  </em>
  <span>, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m taking this extremely seriously.” Piers crosses his arms, offended. “Breakfast is the most essential meal of the day. Food is very important!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So is tuna,” Grim interjects, nodding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So is tuna,” Piers echoes, very solemnly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley slams his hands against the table. “I can </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>believe this. You’re really making me rethink my decision to keep you here! Are you going to do your job or not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers stares the headmaster in the eye with a pleasant smile, raising an eyebrow. He’s silent long enough that Crowley sighs in resignment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine, alright, we can stop wasting time and get to the other stuff.” Crowley crosses his arms, sulkily. “Stop looking at me like that, okay? I just wanted to try slamming my hands against the table for dramatic effect. You can’t say you’ve never had that desire before!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers stays silent, tilting his head to the side with a smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A-anyways.” Crowley clears his throat. “For today, I’d like you to clean Main Street, from the gate to the library. It’s quite a wide lane that students use very often, so please be careful as you clean. And absolutely no fire </span>
  <em>
    <span>or </span>
  </em>
  <span>property destruction! I don’t want either of you to cause an uproar like you did yesterday. Both of you are to be on your </span>
  <em>
    <span>best </span>
  </em>
  <span>behaviour at </span>
  <em>
    <span>all times</span>
  </em>
  <span>, understand?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He jabs his finger at both Grim and Piers, narrowing his eyes authoritatively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers blinks at the headmaster guilelessly. “Hm? What are you talking about? I’m always on my best behaviour, crowberry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crowley stares back flatly, unimpressed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grim snorts. “Even </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>know that’s a lie, human.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers drops the act, clearing his throat. “Okay, fine! So maybe we did, uh, go a bit wild yesterday. But in all fairness, yesterday’s circumstances were extreme! It won’t happen again, promise!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You promise?” Crowley repeats, raising an eyebrow. “And you’re sure you can do it this time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Piers groans, crossing his arms. “Yes! I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I know how to clean properly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll hold you to that,” the Headmaster says gravely. “If anything happens, I won’t be lenient again. Understand?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh, yeah, I got it,” Piers sighs. “You’re just being way too pessimistic. Things will be </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you’ll see!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Famous last words.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is the second half of the previous chapter, actually. Originally the two were one giant 12k long chapter, until I decided to split it, which is why some of the pacing is a bit weird. <br/>Poor Crowley lmao. Piers first goes after his hat then gives him no respect at all. I promise I don’t hate Crowley at all—I find him a rather interesting and funny character, and I’m pretty sure his uselessness is just a plot device because otherwise the MC would have nothing to do, but well Piers started speaking and he wouldn’t shut up.<br/>Writing that part was pretty fun though. Grim and Piers, as always, were my favourite to write. Soooo much bantering that I could’ve gone on forever, but I didn’t want to drag anything too long. <br/>Yes, I named the ghosts after the Pacman ghosts. I have no creativity but I have a lot of love for Pacman (even if I suck at it), so I decided to just go for it. Everyone else already took the cool, meaningful names, so I went with Pacman!!<br/>Next chapter we’re finally expanding our cast! I can’t wait to write Ace and Deuce in properly and start forming the 0 braincells gang. It just doesn’t feel right if those two aren’t there!<br/>Next chapter: How to Get Away with Vandalism, with a Little Bit of Theft</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 5: How to Not Get Fired on the First Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Total Damages: One Queen of Hearts statue. Crowley's dwindling sanity.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“…‘<em>Things will be fine, you’ll see!’ </em> That’s what you said, is it not? So tell me, what about this situation is <em> fine?!” </em></p><p>Crowley’s voice rises in pitch along with his temper, furiously pointing his cane at the three <em> utter fools </em>kneeling in front of him.</p><p>Piers and Grim, he’s already come to expect the worst from them, but who is this new troublemaker on the scene? What sort of first year is stupid enough to cause trouble on the first day of school?!</p><p>The ginger looks away, wincing. Based on the heart painted around his eye, he must be a Heartslabyul student.</p><p>“<em>Well?!” </em> Crowley demands, when none of them respond. “Do any of you have anything to say for yourselves after <em> all of this?” </em></p><p>He gestures angrily at the Queen of Hearts statue, which is looking far worse for the wear than it had been just this morning. There’s a large crack running down the statue’s face, and on the floor a few feet away from the statue is the Queen of Hearts’ crown, broken clean off the statue. The bust, burned almost beyond recognition, is coated in a blanket of soot.</p><p>Piers raises a hand in the air. Crowley nods at him, waiting. “Go ahead, Piers.”</p><p>“Why are we kneeling?” the boy asks innocuously. “We’re still outside. My pants are getting dirty. Also, people are giving us weird looks.”</p><p>That has nothing to do with this situation! Piers seems to have a <em> very specific </em>talent for doing nothing but getting on Crowley’s last nerve. Why had Crowley agreed to let him stay again?!</p><p>…Oh right. Because the boy had given him <em> that smile </em>last night, and had very calmly reminded Crowley of his obligations and failures, and he couldn’t remember how to say no.</p><p>And because he’s a gracious headmaster who’s kind soul could not ignore a person in need. Right.</p><p>“You’re kneeling because I’m scolding you,” Crowley replies. “This is your punishment. And that’s not the point! I’m asking you to tell me how <em> this </em>happened!” </p><p>Once more, he points to the broken Queen of Hearts statue.</p><p>Piers clears his throat and raises his hand again. </p><p>Crowley narrows his eyes. “Is this about the statue, Piers?” he demands. “If not, I don’t want to hear it.”</p><p>Piers lowers his hand, frowning.</p><p>The cat monster scowls petulantly at the ground. “If you’re going to blame anyone, blame <em> this </em>joker over here! It’s all his fault!” </p><p>“Wha—” the other first year, the one from Heartslabyul, immediately springs to his feet indignantly. “I’m not the one throwing fire around so carelessly! It was just self defense!” </p><p>“I had nothing to do with this,” Piers interjects unhelpfully. “This was all their fault. Punish those two if you must, but leave me out of it.”</p><p>“You were the one who broke the statue!” Grim and the first year snap in unison. The two glare at each other immediately, disgusted at having responded at the same time.</p><p>“Because of <em> you two!</em>” Piers counters, crossing his arms. “I was just doing my job. You guys started throwing your magic all around, what was I <em> supposed </em> to do?”</p><p><em> “Not throw the statue at us!</em>” the first year exclaims incredulously. “What the hell kind of monster are you, breaking apart stone with your <em> bare hands—”</em></p><p>“Yeah, well, you guys were the ones who—”</p><p>“It’s all because Ace was mocking us! If it weren’t—”</p><p>Crowley grits his teeth as they start speaking at the same time, each struggling to talk over one another. </p><p>“ENOUGH!” he orders, and the three of them freeze at his tone.</p><p>He takes a deep breath, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Now. <em> One at a time</em>. I’ll ask each of you what happened, and you’ll <em> only </em>answer when I call you. Is that clear?”</p><p>The three troublemakers exchange a glance and mumble various levels of assent.</p><p><em> “Good.” </em>Crowley heaves a sigh, placing his hands on his hips. He turns to the first defendant—the Heartslabyul first year. “You. Name, year, and dorm.”</p><p>The ginger clears his throat. “Ace Trappola, Heartslabyul, first year. Uh, sir.”</p><p>“Trappola, is it? I’ll start with you. What happened here? And don’t lie.”</p><p>Trappola hesitates, sneaking a sidelong glance at the other two beside him. Then he says, “Well, I was walking down main street heading to class when I met these guys—”</p><p>Piers scrunches up his face. “You jumped out from behind a statue and suddenly introduced yourself.”</p><p>“Yeah, from out of nowhere this bothersome guy jumps in!” Grim chimes in agreement. “Seriously, do you make a habit of just following people around?” </p><p>“I didn’t <em> jump out from behind a statue</em>, you just didn’t notice I was there!” Ace crosses his arms defensively. “And I just happened to overhear your conversation, okay?”</p><p>Crowley narrows his eyes. “And what happened after that?” he demands.</p><p>“Oh, yeah.” Picking up where Ace had left off, Piers clears his throat and continues. “Basically, they—” </p><p>“Hold on,” Crowley cuts him off. “I believe I asked <em> Trappola </em>to explain himself, not you.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, he’s bad at retelling it,” Piers says unapologetically. “So I fired him and now I’m doing it.”</p><p>“Hah? I barely even got to say anything!” Ace hisses. “You just interrupted me and kept talking!”</p><p>“Yeah, and what you <em> did </em> get to say was already wrong, so clearly you couldn’t do it,” Piers counters immediately. “Anyways, Ace just said—”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “What, you don’t know about the Queen of Hearts?” A new voice suddenly interjected as Piers and Grim took in the statues. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “GYAH!” Grim leapt into the air, his tail bristling. “Who the heck are you?!”  </em>
</p><p><em> Piers just tilted his head to the side, curiously, as a new student revealed himself. Everything about his appearance was red </em> — <em> red hair, red irises, giant red heart around the left eye </em> — <em> even a red ribbon dangling from his arm.  </em></p><p>
  <em> The new student just grinned, unbothered by Grim’s reaction. “I’m just Ace, a fresh-faced first year. Nice to meet you~.”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“…and then he started talking about the statues or whatever,” Piers finishes, tapping a finger against his chin thoughtfully. “But that was boring, so I tuned it out.” </p><p><em> “Boring?” </em> Momentarily caught off guard by Piers’ careless statement, Crowley can only splutter in disbelief, mouth opening and closing. “That’s the <em> Great Seven </em>you’re talking about, young man! Do you have any idea how much tradition and prestige—!”</p><p>“<em>Boring</em>,” Piers repeats, emphatically. </p><p>Crowley grits his teeth and resists the urge to smack the man over the head with his whip. He’s an <em> educator</em>, and a very kind one at that. No hitting students, not even when they were dissing the greatest figures in all of Twisted Wonderland history. </p><p>“Tch. That joker just wanted to show off what he knew, so he jumped out and pretended to be nice,” Grim grumbles.</p><p>Ace smirks condescendingly. “Hah? This coming from a talking raccoon who didn’t even know this basic kindergarten level knowledge?”</p><p>“Why, you—!” Grim puffs up indignantly, but Piers just smacks him over the head and the monster grits his teeth but grudgingly <em> doesn’t </em>start spewing fireballs. </p><p>Crowley is almost impressed by how well Piers has Grim under his leash. So impressed, he nearly forgets to be angry.</p><p>“No fireballs,” Piers hisses, his eyes flicking over to the headmaster briefly, then back down. “Not in front of clothes outlet, at least. We’ll roast Ace later, okay?” </p><p><em> Never mind</em>, then. There goes all the respect Piers has just earned, flying out the window faster than Crowley’s threadbare sanity.</p><p>“I can <em> hear </em>you, you know,” Ace snips, pointedly. “And those puny fireballs couldn’t even scratch me.”</p><p>“<em>Clothes outlet?” </em>Crowley protests in outrage, overpowering Grim's hissed retort. “That wasn’t even close to my name! Are you even trying anymore?”</p><p>Piers bites his lip, looking a touch ashamed. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m starting to run out of words to use in place of your name. I’ll have to start using a dictionary.” </p><p>“Just say my name! What do you have against me, anyways?” Crowley cries, then shakes his head immediately. No, hold on, he has to get a grip. It’s far too easy to get caught in Piers’ rhythm, and if he wants to get through this with <em> any </em>sanity intact, he has to keep ploughing forward and ignore everything else. </p><p>He exhales through his teeth, and relaxes his shoulders. “Alright. Let’s try again. What happened <em> after </em>that?”</p><p>Piers hums, tilting his head to the side. “Weeeell, that was when they started fighting.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Blah blah blah, boring expositional dump on some old statues that are very important to the premise of our school and everything,” Ace said. “You’ve already read the prologue, you know the dialogue. Search it up yourself.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Wow,” Grim said. “That was super enlightening. Very cool. Thanks.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No problem,” Ace replied. Then he added, smugly, “Also your face is dumb and you’re so uncool.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Grim responded with a fireball to his chest. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley’s mouth falls open, and he turns on the students incredulously. “You started fighting in Main Street over something as childish as that?!” </p><p>“Okay, no, hold <em> on</em>,” Ace interrupts hastily, “I didn’t actually say any of that! Stop putting words in my mouth, you idiot!”</p><p>“That’s right!” For once both on the same wavelength, Grim glares at Piers. “I didn’t fireball his chest, I was aiming at his dumb face!”</p><p>“That’s <em> not </em> the problem here!” Crowley says agitatedly. </p><p>“Okay, fine, I’m paraphrasing,” Piers admits, raising a hand in surrender. “I don’t actually remember the words, but I think that’s what happened.”</p><p>Ace scowls. “That wasn’t even close to what actually happened! You weren’t paying attention at all during this, were you?”</p><p>Piers looks away, biting his lip. “…Well, no, not really.”</p><p>Crowley immediately picks up on Piers’ hesitance, staring down at the violet-haired boy suspiciously. “Alright, so those two idiots started fighting, but what were <em> you </em> doing during all this, then? I <em> distinctly remember </em> you telling me you wouldn’t set anything on fire or break anything. <em> Well? </em> What do you have to say about <em> this?”  </em></p><p>He nudges the charred and soot-covered Queen of Hearts statue at his feet, whose crown lay on the floor in pieces next to the bust. </p><p>“We weren’t <em> fighting</em>,” Ace mumbles, a little petulantly. “…It was just self-defense. What was I supposed to do when the raccoon suddenly started slinging fireballs?”  </p><p>“I’m not a raccoon!” Grim snaps. “And if you didn’t use your wind magic the fire wouldn’t have hit the statue anyways!”</p><p>“Trappola. Grim.” Crowley shoots them both an icy glare, and they fall silent, both looking appropriately ashamed. <em> Good.</em> “I will deal with the two of you and your <em> misconduct </em> later. Right now I’m talking to Piers. Understood?”</p><p>They both nod, subdued.</p><p>“Good.” He turns back to Piers, who’s fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve. “Well? Where were you?”</p><p>“Um…okay, so I did break the statue a little bit,” Piers admits, “<em>But, </em>in my defense, I sort of had to.”</p><p>Crowley stares. “You <em>had to</em> break the incredibly expensive fine-crafted statue of one of the most important figures in Twisted Wonderland.”</p><p>Piers clears his throat. “…it sounds bad when you say it like that, but yeah, I guess so.”</p><p>Crowley stares, harder.<em> “Why?”  </em></p><p>Sheepishly, Piers rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, basically…” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Sweat ran down his brow, but Piers didn’t dare lift his concentration from his current objective for even the slightest moment to wipe it away. This task was far too important to potentially compromise.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His arms trembled from exertion, but he ignored it, pushing on regardless. Carefully, ever so carefully, he twisted the cloth into the thin space between the folds of the Queen of Hearts’ shirt, where his fingers could not reach.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“You’re <em> cleaning?” </em> Crowley says in disbelief. “<em>That’s </em>the all-important task that you’re so focused on? And how does this relate to having to break the Queen of Hearts’ statue?”</p><p>Piers frowns. “It’s explained later on, be patient,” he says, chastising. “Anyways, as I was saying…” </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> There had been some strange, bluish-green residue left in the crevice of the statue, and it’d driven him crazy trying to get it out. His fingers didn’t fit; the space was so paper-thin that the only way he could reach it was with the cloth, and even then he couldn’t muster wipe the stubborn stain away. </em>
</p><p><em> Piers was vaguely aware in the back of his mind that Grim and the stranger </em> — <em> what was his name again, base? Face? Ace? Lace? Whatever </em> — <em> had started up a fight. His senses were going crazy with how much magic was being carelessly thrown around. Every time a fireball came close to hitting him, his mind would buzz a warning, and Piers would simply duck, or tilt his head to the side, just perfectly avoiding it each time.  </em></p><p><em> He was in the middle of a warzone, but he couldn’t care less about that. No, all he needed to do was get this </em> stubborn stain <em> out of the statue! He had to do his job, even if it meant risking his life…! </em></p><p> </p><p>“No, no <em>no!” </em>Crowley interrupts, flicking his whip agitatedly through the air. “That’s all wrong! The fight! Grim and Ace started <em>fighting with magic! </em>You should’ve stopped them! What is wrong with your priorities?!”</p><p>Piers blinks at him, guilelessly. “Well, I mean, I told you I would clean properly, right? That’s my job after all.” </p><p>“I also told you to prevent any more property damage!” Crowley seethes, pinching the bridge of his nose where the migraine is beginning to form. As always, talking to Piers makes his head hurt at the other’s utter lack of common sense. “Did you at least <em> try </em> to stop them? Or did you just ignore the fight and calmly continue cleaning <em> in the middle of all the flames being thrown about?!” </em></p><p>“Wha—of course I tried to stop them,” Piers says, offended. “You interrupted me before I could get to that part!”</p><p>“Then keep going!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A-HEM. As Piers contemplated the dilemma before him (namely, the statue), his mind immediately started ringing out alarm bells as a gust of wind redirected Grim’s jet of fire directly towards him. Piers didn’t pause for even a moment. He just ducked his head to the side, letting the flame burn out against the stone pathway.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Grim,” he called out absently, still struggling with the rag in his hands, “Don’t burn anything, okay?”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“THAT’S what you call doing your job?!” Crowley yells incredulously. “You barely even tried to stop him!”</p><p>Piers crosses his arms stubbornly. “Well, I was preoccupied with other stuff at the time, okay? It’s not my fault Grim didn’t <em> listen</em>.” </p><p>“Not your fault—?!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Piers was growing more and more frustrated, until, eureka!  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A genius solution suddenly came to him in the midst of his contemplation. If he couldn’t reach the stain with his hand, then he could use a stick or something narrower instead! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“There’s nothing smart about that,” Crowley objects immediately. “That was obvious, wasn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> No, no, it was absolutely brilliant! </em>
</p><p><em><br/></em> <em> He immediately steps away from the statue and bends down to grab a stray twig </em> — <em> sidestepping casually as a fireball soars by his ear as he does </em> — <em> and then examines it. It’s thin enough to seem useful. He wraps the twig up with the cloth, and clambers around the statue to squeeze it in place. </em></p><p><em> As he finally started cleaning, satisfied with his genius solution, he became aware of the many eyes observing his work. Students had started to gather around them from all the ruckus Ace and Grim had caused, and a few of them even seemed to be giving him weird looks, though that may have been his imagination </em>—</p><p> </p><p>“Definitely not your imagination,” Crowley mutters.</p><p>Piers continues as though he hasn’t heard the headmaster.</p><p> </p><p>—<em> because there was nothing strange about what Piers was doing. It was absolutely brilliant, that’s what it was.  </em></p><p>
  <em> Finally! The stupid stain that had ceaselessly plagued his thoughts were no more!  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He sat back in satisfaction, a grin adorning his lips as he looked over his work. Just by removing that one stain, it was like the whole statue had been renewed! It even seemed to sparkle! </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He really did a great job with this one, didn’t he? Really, could there be a better cleaner in the lands? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Happily, he reaches out to give the rest of the statue a wipe as well…  </em>
</p><p><em>When </em> <b>it </b> <em>happened.</em></p><p> </p><p>“Ah…” Ace winces, nervously. “Right. This part.”  </p><p>Piers’ fists clench, his tone darkening. Ace and Grim both edge away from Piers, their expressions paling rapidly. </p><p>Despite himself, Crowley shivers slightly at the expression on the boy’s face.  </p><p> </p><p><em> A jet of flame collided with the statue before Piers’ stunned eyes, and instantly scorched it, tainting the spotless, blemish-less, CLEAN STATUE WITH A </em> <b> <em>LAYER OF </em> </b> <b> <em>SOOT</em></b><em>.  </em></p><p>
  <em> His hand, which had been resting on the statue, clenched into fists.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>As they are now, Crowley notes nervously. Piers is trembling, his voice flattening as he retells the events that had happened.</p><p> </p><p><em> He slowly turned his glare onto the culprits </em> — <em> Grim and Ace. </em></p><p><em> “H-hey,” Ace swallowed, taking a step backwards. “U-um, before you do anything </em> — <em> ” </em></p><p><em> He heard a brief </em> crack <em> , and then dust rained down his arm. He paid it no mind, his grip on the statue tightening. His shoulders trembling with emotion, he ducked his head down, his bangs shadowing his expression. </em></p><p>
  <em> Grim whimpered.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Holy shit,” Ace breathed, his eyes wide. “H-he just cracked the marble bust with one hand.” </em>
</p><p><em>“</em><b><em>I</em></b> <b><em>told you</em></b> <b><em>not to burn anything</em></b><em>.” Piers’ voice was eerily calm, and he lifted his head to direct the full strength of his glare at the two foolish fucking idiots.</em></p><p><em> Grim and Ace both froze under his intense gaze in fear. Standing before them was no longer any human being that belonged to this realm. No, what was standing before them was </em>—</p><p> </p><p>“<b>A monster.”</b></p><p> </p><p>Crowley starts, his mouth dropping open, as Ace and Grim both interrupt Piers’ retelling of the events to finish in sync.</p><p>Grim shudders. “It was horrible.”</p><p>Ace nods, pale as a sheet, the only time the two have ever been in agreement. “That definitely wasn’t human.” </p><p>“...what did you do…?” Crowley demands, slowly, dread pooling in his stomach. He had a vague feeling he didn’t want to know… </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> His eyes glowing menacingly with the wrath of a thousand demons, Piers smiled, dark and sweet.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Grim made a low, terrified sound, but there was no saving him now. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <strong> “C</strong>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>lean up after yourselves, boys.</em>
  </b>
  <em><strong>”</strong> </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“…And that’s when I threw the statue at them,” finishes Piers, nodding. Then he pauses, brows furrowing. “Well, not the whole statue. I accidentally broke off the crown, so I threw that at them. The rest of the statue is fine though, so it’s all good!”</p><p>“You tried to kill us!” Grim shouts. </p><p>“And nearly succeeded, too,” Ace grimaces, holding his neck almost protectively.</p><p>Piers hums, supremely unconcerned for someone in his position. “I did what I had to do,” he says solemnly.</p><p>Crowley presses his lips together and counts to ten, breathing through gritted teeth. “<em>That’s </em>why the statue is broken?! How did you even do that? It's made of solid stone! And you <em>threw </em>that at Grim and Trappola? You’re lucky they aren’t more seriously injured!” </p><p>“Exactly!” Grim nods vehemently.</p><p>Piers tilts his head to the side, oblivious to the fact that he’s currently the biggest source of turmoil in Crowley’s life. “Well, I had to do it. I mean, they burned the statue right after I finished cleaning it! Absolutely inconsiderate. And they’re fine, aren’t they? It was just a little bruising.”</p><p>Crowley doesn’t even have any words to say to him at this point that would <em>begin </em>to express even a fraction of what he’s currently feeling.</p><p>“Anyways!” Piers claps his hands together cheerily. “See, it wasn’t my fault after all! I was just doing my job the entire time. So what’s the verdict, crosscountry lemur?”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“I can’t believe he expects us to clean all the windows in the school,” Piers complains as he sweeps from side to side with a new mop and magically-refilling bucket helpfully provided by Crowley.</p><p>Grim huffs, blowing a short puff of flame into the air, looking thoroughly annoyed as he gathers the little bundles of leaves from the street and deposits it in the pile Piers had made. “That bastard Ace is lucky to be in class right now, or I’d—”</p><p>“—roast him down to his bones, I know.” Piers stops mid-sweep to blow a strand of hair out of his eyes, squinting up at the sky as he tries to judge the time. “I won’t stop you. He deserves it, definitely.”</p><p>“I don’t need you to tell me what to do,” Grim mutters, but returns to his leaf-gathering with less grumbling than before.</p><p>How long have they been slaving away at this? It feels like they’ve been cleaning for <em> hours</em>, though judging by the sun, it wasn’t even noon yet. At most it must’ve been three hours; lunch was still a full hour away. </p><p>After the fiasco this morning (which Piers adamantly maintains is <em> none of his fault! </em>He was justified in all his actions, no matter what anyone else said!) Crowley had ordered them to return to their janitor job and clean Main Street, which was now temporarily missing the Queen of Hearts statue. The damage luckily hadn’t been too bad — or so Crowley had said, glaring at them pointedly — so it would be a week at most before it was returned to its proper location.</p><p>In the meantime, though, the space where the statue normally occupied was empty. It gave the entire walkway a feeling of lopsidedness, and all of the students who’d been walking by had given it a long, hard look, noticing the irregularity immediately.</p><p>In just a few hours the rumours must have spread enough for everyone to know what had happened, because students passing by kept giving him and Grim odd looks, which was more than a little bit unnerving.</p><p>At least no one had been dumb enough to question them about the incident, because Piers is not about to hold himself accountable for Grim setting them all on fire. </p><p>“Is it lunchtime yet?” Grim complains, idly scratching at the fur around his neck.</p><p>Piers hums, glancing up and squinting at the sky again. “Not yet, but if we finish this early we can go look around for Sam’s shop that crow dude mentioned. Get some more bread like the ones from this morning.”</p><p>“And tuna,” Grim adds. “At least four cans!” </p><p>Piers grins, nodding his head in affirmative. “Yup, got it. As much tuna as we can steal—uh, buy.” </p><p>Satisfied with the response, Grim goes back to cleaning. Piers also returns to his sweeping, but his gaze keeps drifting across the expanse of grass and neatly trimmed hedges that line the side of the street leading up to the Hall of Mirrors. </p><p>For some reason, he can’t concentrate on his work. Although the courtyard looks peaceful, the air feels… restless, somehow. His skin keeps tingling even though no one’s using magic nearby. It’s frustrating—it feels like something’s off, but he just can’t tell what it is.</p><p>He tilts his head, shifting his weight from side to side as he sweeps, but he listens carefully for any errant noise.</p><p>
  <em> “…get…go…!”  </em>
</p><p>Piers stills, hunched over his mop as he strains to pick up on the faint voices trailing on the wind. </p><p>“Grim,” he says carefully, “Did you hear that?”</p><p>“Huh?” Grim looks up from his cleaning, staring at him in confusion. “What the heck are ya talking about? Hey, keep cleaning! If you’re using that as an excuse to slack off, don’t think I’ll go easy on ya!” </p><p>“What? No!” Piers shakes his head hastily, and cocks his head again, frowning in concentration. “I swore I heard someone…” </p><p><em> “STAY </em> —… <em> DO…DARE…” </em></p><p>There it is again! The same voices from last time, clearer than before. So he didn’t just imagine it!. The sound seems to be coming from behind the Hall of Mirrors.</p><p>“…Hey, Grim, I’ll be right back, okay?” Piers says, brows furrowing as he throws his mop over his shoulder and hauls the bucket up. He glances surreptitiously towards the Hall of Mirrors. “I just want to check something out real quick.” </p><p>Grim scowls, eyeing him suspiciously. “Fine! But if you don’t come back I’m definitely not going to clean for you! Got it?” </p><p>Piers smiles. “I won’t run,” he promises. “I just need to check something out.” </p><p>Grim grumbles something that sounds a bit like ‘<em>you better not </em>’, but Piers is already tuning him out as he heads towards the Hall of Mirrors. </p><p>As he approaches the area behind the Hall of Mirrors, the noise starts to swell, several voices mixed together and shouting. He can’t actually distinguish any words, because they’re all talking over one another, but they sound angry. </p><p>“—you damned bastard, there’s nowhere for you to go this time!”</p><p>Yeah, that sounds like a fight. </p><p>Piers hesitates, and decides to carefully inch around the Hall of Mirrors, sticking to the shadows so he won’t be walking into the situation completely unprepared. Honestly he’s not exactly sure what he’s doing here. He doesn’t have anything on him in case it gets nasty (other than his shoes and his mop, but he didn’t want to ruin any of those), and it’s not like a magicless janitor was going to be any use in a magical duel anyways. </p><p>The smart, logical move would be to head back and call a teacher over to take care of this.</p><p>Naturally, Piers continues to shuffle forward, peering out from behind the Hall of Mirrors.</p><p>There are six students  in a semi-circle surrounding this one dude in the centre, all of them pointing their magical pens threateningly at the person in the centre. One of the students, whose face Piers can’t actually see, is gesticulating rather wildly as he snarls, enraged.</p><p>“—know it was your fault, you and your <em> damn </em>twin, thinking you’re untouchable because of your underhanded ways! Well too bad, Leech! There’s nowhere for you to go now!” </p><p>“Yeah!” </p><p>“Prepare to go down, Floyd!” </p><p>“We’re done being pushed around by you!”</p><p>Huh. This all sounds very dramatic and clichéd. Piers wonders absently what the guy even did to inspire such levels of fury from these six students.  </p><p>Surprisingly enough, though, the person in the middle doesn’t even seem fazed. From Piers’ vantage point, he can only really make out the height — seriously, the dude <em> towers </em>over everyone else — and the eye-catching turquoise hair, but even he can hear the derision in his voice as he responds.</p><p>Turquoise Hair yawns, sharp teeth flashing, and folds his long, sinuous arms behind his head. “Huuh~? What are you guppies saying? Do you want me to squeeze you?”</p><p>Despite being surrounded and outnumbered, he seems at total ease. Piers is suitably impressed. </p><p>(…Also—completely unrelated, but extremely important nonetheless—has he mentioned that the dude’s <em> tall </em> yet? Because the dude’s <em> really fucking tall </em> . Piers isn’t short, by any means; in fact, he’s above average, he’s pretty sure, but damn. This guy’s legs just go on <em> forever </em>. </p><p>Which is also really unfair, actually, because there’s no reason for anyone to be that tall.)</p><p>“Wha…!” The student in front of Tall, Teal, and Shark-Toothed splutters, and he raises his magic pen even higher. “Do you even know what situation you’re in, Floyd Leech?! Your twin’s not here to cover for you this time!”</p><p>“Ehhh…” Floyd hums, light and lilting. He tilts his head to the side, gold and olive eyes (that was just unfair — the dude was tall, had turquoise hair with a cool standout black streak, <em> and </em> heterochromia? <em> Leave some cool traits for the rest of us, dude!) </em> regarding the students lazily. “You guys talk too much…  Damn, it’s so <em> annoying</em>. Get out of my way already, you guppies.”    </p><p>His voice dips down, transforming so quickly that Piers has whiplash, going from airy and unconcerned to deep and guttural in a flash.</p><p>One of the students’ eyes widen, sensing the impending danger, and he calls out quickly, “Get him—!” </p><p>He doesn’t get a chance to finish.</p><p>The other students scramble out of the way as Floyd <em> moves</em>, fast enough Piers that can barely keep up, lunging across and fluidly snatching the student up in one step. His smile is sharp and wide, his eyes dark and leery.</p><p>“Oh?” Floyd tutters, an ominous undertone creeping into his voice as the student in his grip squeaks in fear. “Are you scared, little fishy? A<em> ha</em>,” he laughs, a dissonant echo, “Don’t be~. I’m just going to squeeze you a bit for trying to get in my way, ’kay?”</p><p>"Let him GO!" </p><p>An explosion of magic interrupts him, and Floyd leans back, avoiding the blast of dark energy that was shot at him. His eyes narrow, dissatisfied, as he glares at the students surrounding him. “…Tch. Can’t you all wait your turn?”</p><p>“Stay back!” </p><p>“Quick, surround him!"</p><p>“This is our chance! Get him!” </p><p>Floyd casts the surrounding mobs an irritated look, his expression contorting in displeasure. With a scowl, he shoves the student in his hands to the ground, kicking him aside ruthlessly, and advances as spells flash and the entire area is abruptly transformed into a <em> warzone </em>.</p><p>Piers’ teeth rattle from being in such close proximity to all the spellcasting going on, a deep quaking that shakes him down to the bone. He should probably leave before he’s spotted, because it’s definitely not safe for him to stick anymore. </p><p>But it’s—okay, it’s actually sort of <em> fascinating </em>to watch. Spells are being thrown around carelessly, multiple jets of light that combine into a rather beautiful lights show all targeted at Floyd, and yet none of them strike their mark. Floyd slinks around the spells, moving so gracefully and fluidly that despite fighting a one-on-five, the other students are the ones being cornered. </p><p>Floyd doesn’t even seem to be using any magic, just his fists and his legs (his <em> very very </em> long legs, which are <em> incredibly </em>effective), his own magic pen untouched in his blazer pocket. </p><p>“GOT YOU!” One student yells, triumphantly, and a jet of open flame shoots out of his magic pen, straight at his chest.</p><p>But Floyd just laughs, dipping backwards like he’s doing the limbo until he’s parallel to the ground. The stream of fire passes harmlessly overhead, setting fire to a nearby bush instead of hitting its target. </p><p>“Ooh,” Piers murmurs appreciatively, raising an eyebrow. “That was a nice move.”</p><p>Straightening, Floyd wastes no time in getting in the student’s face, ripping his magic pen out of his hands before he could react and sweeping his legs out from under him. The student crashes to the ground with a shriek.</p><p>Piers claps quietly. “Woah, that was smooth.”</p><p>In his excitement, though, he’d leaned in too close. He’s now within spellcasting range, which he quickly realizes as alarm bells ring in his head.</p><p>Piers immediately flattens himself against the wall as an errant spell flies right by his head, just missing his face. The jet of light smashes into the ground, scorching the smooth stone with a layer of black.</p><p>Oof. Close call. Piers quickly slides a bit further into the shadows. At least it seems like no one’s seen him; it’d just been a fluke that the spell had been so close. </p><p>Although—<em>hah</em>, that’s going to be a bitch to clean. After the whole scorching and breaking the Queen of Hearts’ statue incident this morning, Piers is more than certified enough to judge soot stains. They definitely don’t come out of stone easy.</p><p>Whichever poor sap in charge of cleaning up after this mess was going to have a hard time with all the damage being done. The scorch marks alone were going to take <em> hours </em>to get out. Piers definitely doesn’t envy the janitors at this school for having to do this all the time on a normal basis.</p><p>…Wait, hold on a minute. </p><p>Crowley had very specifically told them to clean the entire section around the Hall of Mirrors, including the street leading up to it. Which means—</p><p>He feels a bit like he’s been sucker punched by this realization, the slow dawning of understanding hitting like a truck.</p><p>God<em> dammit</em>. </p><p>Piers stares at the scorch mark on the floor. He looks back at the fight, all explosions and shiny lights and bursts of magic that is <em> really cool </em> to watch, but also—</p><p>He stares at the pure and utter <em> carnage </em> being wrecked by those <em> damn fucking idiots </em>who were carelessly throwing spells around with no respect for the mess they were leaving behind or the people who had to clean up after them.</p><p>“Oh what the <em> fuck</em>,” Piers says, flatly. “I fucking hate my job.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AHHHHH I'm sorry for the delays in this chapter!!!<br/>Uni hit me like a brick, and I had no free time. This chapter was actually going to be even longer, but I realized I was sitting around 10k words and had to separate it.<br/>On the other hand - a lot has changed from my original plan for this chapter, which another reason for the delay. Originally I was just going to go straight to the Adeuce chandelier incident, then finish prologue in the chapter right after this.<br/>Then I realized that I was missing the opportunity to do a lot of the world building I wanted to get an early jump on, so I moved that to another chapter and this became extended.<br/>This chapter's still around 5.4k words, though, so hopefully it's not that bad??</p><p>This chapter had several canon-divergent moments. I chose instead of directly retelling the statue scene, to do it as a retelling from Piers' point of view. The italicized text at the beginning is Piers' narration of the events haha, which is why they're not the most... accurate. Also RIP crowley's sanity, I'm sorry you have to deal with this. I'd like to say it gets better for him, but uh... *Looks at NRC school year* it really doesn't oops.<br/>In canon, the statue was only slightly scorched. However, in this, Piers broke the crown off to use as ammunition against Ace &amp; Grim. Sighs. The poor statue oop.<br/>I had a lot of fun writing the banter/dialogue in this chapter, so hopefully it's interesting and not out of character! I realized that Ace was actually hard to write, since in canon Yuu plays the straight-man (the rational one), so he comes off as more goofy, but he's actually pretty smart and condescending?? So I figured that since Piers is the one who actually has 0 braincells, Ace would have to step up as the straight man. He's a horrible straight man, since he's so insulting, but the dynamic is so fun.</p><p>ALSO—FLOYD INTERACTION INCOMING!! I hope the fight scene wasn't too hard to read! Piers is just watching all these random highschoolers try to gang up on Floyd with interest. Until he realizes that HE has to clean up this mess, then he's all—"Fuck my life"—because come ON, look at how messy this is!<br/>I hope I wrote Floyd's character well—he's SUCH a difficult character to write with how goddamn VOLATILE his character is. Sometimes I want to bonk him in the head because HAVE SOME PITY ON US WHO HAVE TO WRITE ABOUT YOU, STUPID EEL. But also he's my favourite, so I guess I really did this to myself. </p><p>In summary: I am a clown. Sorry for the delay, and I hope you're excited for next chapter! I have most of it written out, just have to edit, connect, and fix the segments a bit. I wish I could give a better estimate for when it'll be up, but unfortunately I can't make any promises with exams coming up again :(. But I CAN guarantee that I haven't given up on this story, and I won't—it might take some time, but I'm definitely invested in this story.</p><p>Up Next: How to Be the Best Janitor NRC's Ever Seen.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! Thank you for giving this fic a chance. Sorry if the first chapter doesn’t make much sense, this isn’t my normal writing style. I split the first chapter in 2, but the two halves aren’t really inter-related. The first half is told by A/Deuce, and it reflects a plot point that I can’t wait to explore. The second half is supposed to be fragmented and disjointed, because it reflects how the person feels during those moments. Don’t worry, it’ll change in the coming chapters.</p><p>I accidentally got myself hooked on yet another gacha game, even though I’m already invested in like twelve other games. It wasn’t my fault—twitter just showed me Vil Schoenheit and I knew I was in trouble. And then I read the translations of the chapters, and haha I was stuck.</p><p>This is my first fic in a while, as I’ve been stuck in writer's block for… quite some time, and now I’m desperately encapsulating on the new drive to write. I’ve got lots planned for this, so we’ll see how it goes! I’m really excited for this.</p><p>Also, if you were wondering; yes, the horses mentioned are from the ebony carriages. He’s being picked up by horse &amp; carriage from a very, uh, unique location.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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